


In your hands my heart rests

by ca_te



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Big Bang Challenge, Community: paperlegends, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin meet when they are kids and they grow together in Camelot. Growing up, though, isn't always easy and it means discovering who you truly are and charting what you truly feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In your hands my heart rests

**Author's Note:**

> he quotes at the beginning of the chapters are from songs by Snow Patrol (in particular "The garden rules", "Give me strenght", "Set fire to the third bar", "Lifeboats" and "If I'd found the right words to say").
> 
> Thanks to flomacaroon for having chosen to be my artist and for the beautiful art she has made! Thanks to ronsoftie for being my cheerleader, her support was the only thing that kept me writing when I thought I might drop off this year. Thanks also to my sister for having listened to me while I rambled about this story. Thanks to sabriel75 for being my beta and for having had the patience to check all my mistakes. And finally thanks to the_muppet for all the hard work and for having made this wonderful adventure possible also this year <3

1.

_Deep in your garden where the nettle met the rose_

_Is where we'd hide ourselves_

_Yes we were just kids_

There is little space under his bed and Merlin has to hold his breath to fit better, he almost coughs because of the dust. The thought that his mum would scold him for having stained his clothes crosses his mind, but it is quickly dismissed as the door to their small house opens.

The sounds from the street outside come rushing in- people trying to sell their vegetables, guards talking to each other as they walk, even a pair of horses, probably knights’- before coming muffled as the door snicks shut.

Merlin closes his eyes and concentrates on not moving even a muscle. He can feel his heart beating hard, though, almost as if it wants to break free and fall on the wooden floor. The sound of boots walking around reaches his ears and he holds his breath. After a while the door opens again, sounds from outside flowing back in before it closes with a curt sound.

Scooting out from under the bed, he is careful not to hit his head as he has done so many times before. Once he is back on his feet he brushes some of the dust away from his knees and turns towards the door. His mouth falls open at the sight of the blond boy leaning against the kneading trough, a smirk on his face.

“I think I won again, _Merlin_!”

“That’s cheating, Arthur!”

Merlin glares at the other boy as he starts to laugh, his eyes squeezed shut and hands clutching his hips.

“I didn’t think there were hide and seek rules!”

“Of course there are! And you can’t just avoid them because you’re the king’s son!”

Merlin stands by the bed, his arms crossed on his chest, knowing that he isn’t angry at Arthur at all. It is just too funny to tease him.

Arthur shrugs before tilting his head to the side.

“Oh c’mon! I promise you can have a bit of meat from my dinner tonight.”

And it is so typical of Arthur, of his best friend, that Merlin can’t help but grin.

“Here you go again, bribing me with food!”

Arthur’s smile is so bright that it seems to light up the room.

“That’s because you’re piggish!”

They stumble out of Merlin’s small house and walk up to the castle, still laughing and pushing at each other playfully. As they pass under the arch that leads to the courtyard the two guards standing there bow their heads at Arthur; Merlin simply keeps his eyes focused on the dusty ground. Even though it has been years since he and Arthur started to spend most of their time around each other, he still hasn’t gotten used to this, to people looking at his best friend as if he is already a king and not an eleven-year-old boy.

///

Hunith, Merlin’s mother, had moved to Camelot after her husband had fled. Merlin had been three years old back then and he couldn’t remember the way his father had held him close to his chest, whispering unknown words into his ear; he couldn’t remember the soft wings of magic enveloping the both of them as a promise.

They had travelled alone across the countryside, across the borders of Cenred’s kingdom and had arrived in Camelot on an autumn morning. Hunith sometimes would tell him about that day, when she saw Camelot for the first time, when she walked through the market street packed with people and stalls. Gaius, an old friend of hers, had managed to find a small place for her and Merlin to live and a job for her as kitchen maid at the castle.

Indeed, Merlin’s first memories weren’t about Ealdor but about Camelot; just small fragments that would have held no importance at all except that they were incredibly dear to his heart. They were memories of his mother’s hands while she helped him to get dressed, of the small bird that he once found under a tree next to the East bastion and brought home until it had been strong enough to fly away. And of course, among this collection of moments stolen to the passing of time there was the first day that he met Arthur.

It had been when Merlin was eight years-old. Back then he had already started to spend a lot of his time in the castle. He liked to sit in the big kitchen while his mother worked, the other cooks and maids there had become used to him and always had a piece of bread or an apple to give him. But what he liked the most was staying in Gaius’ workshop, observing the old man as he prepared potions and drugs. There was something both thrilling and calming in the smell of herbs filling the big room and in Gaius’ serious but gentle eyes. Sometimes he would take some book down from the shelves and sit by the window with Merlin beside him and he would read about old times and knights and dragons. It felt a bit like having  a father or a grandfather and Merlin was grateful for that.

It was in the kitchens that Merlin heard about Arthur for the first time. Gertrude, a big and kind woman, was sitting at the table, peeling potatoes and talking to a younger maid, whose name Merlin didn’t know because she had started to work at the castle just few days before.

“I’ve heard that the king’s son is growing up strong.”

Gertrude passed a hand over her forehead.

“Yes, but without a mother it’s quite hard.”

Merlin flashed a look in Hunith’s direction, she smiled at him reassuringly and he took another bite of the apple in his hands.

“She died giving birth to him, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. He is so similar to her.”

Another woman, Johan, sat down at the table with the other two.

“He is a beautiful child, but I’m afraid he is going to grow up with a bad attitude. Growing up as a prince might turn you into a spoiled brat.”

The other two women nodded, while Hunith turned away from the fire, wiping her hands clean on her apron. Her voice was soft when she spoke.

“He is a good boy. Too quiet and too lonely for being a child. He is your same age, you know that Merlin?”

He tilted his head to the side, trying to imagine this Arthur, wondering what games did he liked to play.

“Do you think I can play with him, mum?”

Gertrude shook her head and flashed an apologetic smile in his direction.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, darling.”

“But...”

Merlin wanted to ask what she meant, what the problem was, but Hunith patted his hair gently and told him to go to Gaius and see if he needed some help.

The corridors and the passages were calm, even though there were guards and maids passing now and then. Merlin walked calmly in the direction of the workshop; he was about to turn on the left towards the stairs when the faint sound of wood against wood reached his ears. He walked towards the closest window and looked at the courtyard below; the sun caught in the golden hair of a boy, who was holding a wooden sword and sparring with an old knight, whose name Merlin didn’t know, mainly because he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the knights. The boy was small, probably a little shorter than Merlin himself, but he moved with such precision that Merlin thought that without a doubt he was going to become a knight one day.

Then, the boy turned and looked straight at him, his eyes were as blue as the sky and for an instant Merlin couldn’t help to look back. After an instant, though, the attention of the blond child was focused on the knight once again. Merlin backed away from the window slowly, he felt weird, as if he had seen something that he wasn’t supposed to.

“Merlin! What are you doing standing there, my boy?”

Gaius raised a white eyebrow when Merlin simply looked at him shrugging.

“Well, come with me now, I need help with some herbs that Samuel picked up yesterday.”

Merlin liked the sensation of Gaius’ coarse and big hand around his smaller one. They walked in silence along the corridors; a couple of noblemen nodded in the physician’s direction, but no one seemed to notice the child with big blue eyes and ink-black hair.

Sitting on a wooden bench, Merlin let his feet dangle back and forth as the old man moved swiftly in between pots and stills. There was something fascinating in the way his hands moved, it spoke about something ancient and deep, more than the castle they were in.

Merlin chewed at his lower lip, thinking about what the women back in the kitchens had said about the prince. How did he look? What did he like to do? Did he remember his mother? For some unknown reason he wanted to know all of these things, to find that boy, Arthur, and become his friend.

“Gaius?”

The old man turned around, his grey eyes clear in the half light of the workshop.

“Yes, my boy?”

Merlin focused his attention on his hands resting on the wooden surface of the table.

“Do…do you know Arthur?”

Gaius looked straight at him for an instant before turning and walking up to the chest of drawers where he kept the herbs that he had already dried. His voice rang clear over the books and the test-tubes.

“You mean the young prince?”

Merlin fidgeted slightly, feeling like when he was about to be scolded after having done something forbidden. Gaius didn’t seem angry, though, his eyes were gentle and Merlin simply nodded. The old man sighed and padded towards the bench, sitting down carefully.

“Of course I know him. I was there when he was born.”

Merlin looked at Gaius’ hands, resting on his knees, wrinkled and pale like some old parchment. Confused images of stony rooms and tears filled his mind as he tried to imagine what the day Arthur was born had been like. Merlin had never known his father, he hadn’t been able to wait for his son to grow up, Merlin didn’t know why he had left them, but in the end that didn’t matter, the fact that he and his mother had spent years facing everything on their own was what mattered. However, if Merlin tried to imagine what losing his mother would be like, what knowing that your mother had died giving birth to you would mean, he felt his throat growing tighter.

Right in that moment he thought that he would have liked to be by Arthur’s side, even though he didn’t know him, even though he didn’t even know how he looked.

As time passed, he nursed this idea of the young prince inside his head, this image of a lonely and frail child, who maybe didn’t have friends like Will by his side. Sometimes Merlin would walk through the courtyard, following Gaius on one of the old man’s errands, and would cast a look at the windows of the castle, but he never spotted Arthur, or someone who might be him.

Everything changed on a sleepy summer afternoon.

*

Merlin was sitting under a big oak tree near to the knights’ training field, arguing with Will about whom was the stronger between sir Eadric and sir Thomas when the sound of laughter and high voices attracted his attention. He quickly scanned the area and finally spotted a group of boys near the drawbridge. There was something off, though, it seemed as if all of them were focusing on something; Merlin leaned forward and spotted a boy crouched on the ground. He nudged Will with his elbow, but before he could say anything Merlin was already standing and walking towards the small group.

“Hey!”

The other kids turned to look at him, smirks on their faces and hands on their hips; a blond one stepped forward, his eyebrows raised impossibly high. Merlin recognized him as the boy he had seen that afternoon sparring in the courtyard.

“Are you speaking to us?”

Merlin quickly glanced at the kid still kneeling on the ground, his face dirty with dust, before focusing his attention back on the blond boy standing in front of him. He looked about Merlin’s age, but the coldness and the disdain in his azure eyes made him look so much older.

“Yeah, I’m speaking to you. Let Gili go!”

The blond smirked and Merlin felt anger boiling at the bottom of his stomach.

“And what are you going to do if we don’t, Big Ears?”

Merlin felt his cheeks grow hotter and clenched his hands into fists.

“Oh, are you trying to scare me, you prat?”

Before he could even realize what was happening, the blond boy had twisted his arm behind his back and he was falling to his knees. It hurt but Merlin tried to struggle. He hated boys like this one, so full of themselves and so arrogant.

“Hey, let go of me!”

The other boy’s laugh rang in Merlin’s ears.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

 “A prat?”

The grip around his wrist tightened and the other boy’s voice was lower when he spoke.

“I’m prince Arthur, you idiot!”

No come back popped into Merlin’s mind, he simply fell silent, the pain shooting up his arm almost unnoticed as he took in the news. This stupid, pompous kid was Arthur, the young prince he had always imagined to be lonely and kind. He knew it was stupid but he couldn’t help feeling betrayed and sad. When Arthur roughly pulled him up to his feet Merlin kept his gaze focused on the ground.

“Hey, be a man and look at me!”

Merlin gritted his teeth and lifted his gaze.

“Now go and don’t let me see you again!”

Merlin fisted his hands once again, his nails digging in his palms.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that, _sire_!”

He could hear their laughs and their whistles as he walked back to Will. His best friend was still standing under the tree, a worried expression on his features. Merlin leaned into the touch when Will gripped his shoulders trying to comfort him.

Will’s father had died fighting for Camelot, as one of King Uther’s knights, and Will had grown up hating the Pendragon family. He had always said to Merlin that he was an idiot to hope he could become friends with Arthur, and now Merlin knew that he had been right since the very beginning.

“That Arthur is such a wanker!”

Merlin blinked at the word choice but  Will’s grin was infectious and soon they were laughing together, the sadness and the disappointment forgotten.

*

From that summer afternoon Merlin tried with all his might to avoid Arthur; he kept himself away from the west wing of the castle where he knew the prince’s chambers were, he stopped hanging around when the king held banquets for guests and delegates from other kingdoms because the probabilities to meet Arthur and his dumb and arrogant friends were higher.

And it didn’t matter if sometimes he happened to spot the young prince alone, sitting on a step in the herb garden or staring out of a window in some semi-abandoned passage. It didn’t matter if on those occasions he felt like reaching out or if in those small moments there was no hardness, nor contempt in Arthur’s clear eyes. Merlin simply couldn’t forget what a prat he had been and still was, so he never stopped, he never stepped closer. Instead he always turned and walked away.

*

It was winter and one colder than Merlin had ever experienced. He spent most of his days in Gaius’ workshop helping the old man, because at least inside the castle it was a bit warmer and there were woolen blankets and the warm tea that Gaius poured in huge chipped mugs. Will wasn’t allowed in the workshop, though, after he had managed to trip and knock down the leech tank twice. Gwen had managed to persuade her father to let him help over at the forge, though. It was good, because they were almost nine now and they needed to start being useful and help their parents.

Merlin was walking along a passage, going back to the workshop after having delivered a drug to Lady Eveline, when a sound made him stop in his tracks. It was something like a sob, so broken and soft that Merlin immediately felt sorry for the person, even though he hadn’t even seen him or her. The sound was coming from a room on his right, one of those that were reserved for guests if he remembered well; trying to be careful he leaned forward and cast  a quick look inside.

Arthur was sitting on a chair, his head in his hands. Curled up like he was he seemed smaller, nothing more than a child. His right hand was smeared with blood that was still slowly dripping out of a small cut.

Merlin bit his lower lip, his hands gripping the stones in the wall tighter. For an instant he hated how stupid he was, because he knew that he could never walk away, not this time. Sighing he took a step forward and entered the room.  Arthur’s head snapped up, his eyes wider and glistening with tears. Before Merlin could open his mouth to speak, the prince was already standing, his emotions less visible on his face, even though his eyes and his nose were still red from all the crying. Briefly Merlin wondered for how long he had been alone in there, with no other company but the sounds of his sobs.

“What do you want?”

Even though Arthur was trying to sound intimidating, Merlin couldn’t help noticing how he still looked so vulnerable, his emotions still raw at the bottom of his eyes. He took a step forward, lifting his hands up in a mock sign of surrender.

“Hey, I’m not your enemy, you know?”

And in that moment he wished that could be true so much that it almost hurt.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Let me take a look at that cut, will you?”

“And what do you think you could do for that, Big Ears?”

Merlin huffed, for the first time not feeling offended in the least.

“I help Gaius at the workshop; he has started to teach me.”

Arthur shrugged and his features seemed to soften. Merlin smiled and without thinking twice about it he reached out, grabbed the prince’s hand and started to move towards the door.

“Hey! You can’t do that! I’m the prince!”

Having expected it, Merlin turned, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ve already told you that for me you’re nothing more than a prat.”

Arthur frowned following him out of the door anyway; his palm was warm against his own and Merlin finally allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, Arthur Pendragon wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

As Arthur sat on the bench under the window inside Gaius’ workshop, Merlin busied himself looking for the right salve to put on cut, all the while wondering what had happened to make the prince so upset. The thought kept twirling inside his mind like a lost bird, as he tended to the wound. Arthur simply looked at him, with those eyes and Merlin bit his lower lip. He didn’t want to push their newfound truce too far.

“You want to know why I was crying, right?”

Merlin blinked. Had this Arthur kid just read his mind? He shook his head to push away the thought; he was the prince, no way he could be magic.

“You sure look like an idiot sometimes.”

Merlin snapped out of his thoughts and made sure to tie the bandage tighter than necessary.

“Ouch!”

“And what if I wanted to know?”

Arthur grinned, but not arrogantly as the first time they had met, this time it was similar to the way Will smiled at him when they were sharing some secret.

“Well, of course I wouldn’t tell you!”

Merlin laughed, because, really, he might not know Arthur yet, but he was already expecting such an answer.

Arthur laughed with him and in that moment Merlin felt completely at ease, as he had never felt, not even around Will. It was weird but it was nice and Merlin wanted to enjoy every second of it.

They spent the rest of the afternoon simply pottering around the workshop,  bickering constantly. At one point Arthur had asked Merlin to tell him a story. So Merlin picked up one of the old books that Gaius used to read to him and started reading.

When Gaius opened the door to the workshop they were in the middle of a story about the young dragon lord and the beautiful princess; sitting side by side on the old man’s bed and Merlin’s voice ringing clear in the dusty silence of the room.

“Sire?”

Both kids lifted their gazes, surprised to see Gaius standing there. Merlin tensed, thinking that maybe he was going to be punished for inappropriate behavior. You weren’t supposed to read a tale to a prince if you were nothing more than the son of a servant right? But Gaius had a gentle smile on his face, even though his eyes were wide with surprise.

“Hello, Gaius.”

Merlin turned towards Arthur who had just spoke. After having spent hours playing with him as he used to do with Will, it felt almost wrong to hear him responding to a title such as sire.

“Your father was looking for you. You’d probably better go.”

Arthur nodded and Merlin felt stupid because what he was feeling at the thought that the other kid had to go was definitely sadness.

“You’d better accompany the prince to the door, Merlin!”

Merlin sighed, but was inwardly happy to spend a few minutes more with the other kid. Once at the door Arthur turned, a small smile on his lips.

“You’d better finish reading me the story next time!”

Merlin nodded, grinning so hard that his cheeks almost hurt.

*

A whole week passed and Merlin was sure that Arthur had already forgotten about him; but then, on a snowy afternoon Gaius knocked to his door telling him that Arthur wanted to see him.

Merlin didn’t know what to expect and yet the excitement of seeing Arthur again was so much that he almost bounced on his heels as he walked along the corridors heading for the prince’s chambers. He had never seen their insides, only stolen glances when the door was slightly ajar because a maid was cleaning and tidying. Nothing more.

The room was huge, like probably bigger than his own house down at the citadel. Merlin had expected to see toys scattered all around, instead there were only a couple of swords hung over the fireplace. Arthur was sitting on his bed, his legs dangling over the edge and still not reaching the ground. It was then that Merlin remember that to the king Arthur was Camelot’s prince, before being a child. Probably that was the reason why there hadn’t been space for wooden toys.

Merlin cleared his throat, despite not being intimidated in the least by the blond boy sitting in front of him, there still was _something_ about him that made Merlin hold his breath more often than not.

“You wanted to see me?”

Arthur’s eyes found his and a small smile tugged at his thin lips.

“I was bored, wanted some idiot to make me laugh.”

Merlin faked a sigh; the palpable irony behind Arthur’s words making him feel at ease.

“Oh, I see. Then maybe I’ve a future as court jester.”

Arthur’s laugh echoed in the bare room.

“I could totally see that!”

Merlin grinned, wondering if it would be considered inappropriate for him to sit on the soft-looking mattress beside the prince. Arthur cocked his head to the side.

“You can come and sit here, by the way. You make me nervous standing there like a pole.”

Merlin’s grin grew wider.

“As you wish, _sire_.”

He noticed the shadow that passed over Arthur’s features at the use of the title and took a mental note not to use it again. Once he was seated he swung his legs back and forth, waiting for Arthur to talk. When he did his voice was low and reminded Merlin of a quiet autumn night.

“Last week, when you found me…I had injured myself because I was distracted during training.”

Merlin nodded, even though Arthur was looking at the wall straight ahead, waiting patiently for the other boy to go on.

“It never happens to me, you know? But…there was this women walking with a knight and…she looked just how they told me my mother had looked, how I imagine her…”

Merlin sucked in breath, he hadn’t expected this, he hadn’t expected to feel as if he wanted to hug Arthur and do everything in his power to make the pain and the world outside go away. He swallowed and leant forward until their shoulders brushed.

“You know? My father went away when I was only three years old. I don’t remember him; I don’t even know if he is still alive.”

This was something Merlin didn’t like talking about, it made him feel rejected, it left him with this silly hope that maybe his father would come back and stay.

Then Arthur turned, a soft light swimming in his blue eyes and simply squeezed Merlin’s shoulder gently. It felt oddly comforting and reassuring, somehow the soft touch of Arthur’s fingers seemed to tell him that everything would be alright, and Merlin believed that touch without hesitation, as it had never happened to him, not even with Will, who was like a brother to him.

Arthur’s eyes were still too deep and too sad; Merlin worried his lower lip trying to think about something he could do for the other boy. He blinked when the idea came to his mind and without thinking too much about it he took old of Arthur’s shoulder, the fine wool of Arthur’s tunic soft against his skin.

Arthur didn’t flinched away, he simply looked at Merlin, his eyes big and expectant.

“Do you want me to tell you that story you liked?”

Arthur tilted his head to the side, making Merlin think about a small bird.

“You mean the one of the last dragon lord?”

Merlin nodded and something warm spread through his chest at the sight of Arthur’s smile.

2.

_My friends we've seen it all, triumphs to drunken falls and our bones are broken still,_

_but our hearts are joined until_

Arthur simply tilts his head to acknowledge the guards, just as his father has taught him. He moves slightly closer to Merlin bumping their shoulders together. It is grounding, it feels safe. He can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, but everything feels easier and somehow lighter when he thinks that Merlin is there by his side.

He smiles to himself thinking about that time when Merlin entered his room carrying a quill and a pot of ink, pointing at the map hung on the wall and saying that they definitely had to draw crosses on the places where they wanted to go when Arthur would lead soldiers and Merlin would travel with him around the land. They have never questioned that they’d be together.

Everything is less scary if he knew that Merlin will be there; becoming a king, guiding armies, defeating dragons.

Arthur would never admit it out loud, but he is grateful to the gods up there, to his mother watching over him from up above, because he has found a friend like Merlin. Somewhere along the road, after having spent the first years of his life on his own, among court men and knights, he had thought that he was going to be alone, that being a prince meant that he couldn’t play like the kids of the lower town, that he couldn’t have a friend to talk and to share his days with. Then Merlin came, with his big ears and his bravery.

Arthur reaches over and ruffles Merlin’s dark hair.

“Hey, what was that for?”

He simply shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips.

*

Merlin and he are different, they come from different worlds, but it doesn’t matter, not in the least.

Once, Merlin has showed him his own house. He didn’t have a room of his own, he slept on an old mattress beside his mother’s bed, but he had a wooden dragon hidden under his pillow and a few books which Gaius had given him. Arthur thought that he was lucky.

Merlin brought laughter and warmth in his life, Arthur was aware of that, and Arthur tried to make Merlin slip deeper and deeper in his life. Teaching him how to wield a sword or how to ride. He himself had had to learn when he had been seven years old, but when he turned eleven he got his father’s permission to take another pony for Merlin. He liked the happy smile on Merlin’s face when they were outside, the warm sun caressing them.

There is something special in the hours they spend together riding in the woods, away from the castle, from social differences and from duties. Arthur wishes that they could ride even farther, through the country side, until they reached Ealdor, because even though it may seem silly Arthur truly wants to bring Merlin back to that place that he doesn’t remember but is still hidden somewhere inside of him.

*

If he has grown somehow protective of Merlin as time passed, if he sometimes he has been jealous of Will and the fact that he had been there for Merlin even before they had learnt how to speak, he hasn’t thought too much about it. In the end Merlin is _his_ friend, that much is sure, and he knows he would do everything to keep things like that.

*

As time pass Uther tries many times to talk him out of his friendship with Merlin, talking about his duties, his leverage, about a future when he will have to be the wiser and the stronger, when a friendship with the son of a servant will only bring him down.

Arthur never listens, even when Uther’s punishment consist in forbidding him to ride or to spar.  Once the king is so exasperated to forbid him to exit his room for a whole day; Merlin manages to slip small notes under the plates that the maids bring him for lunch and for dinner.

When both of them turn thirteen, finally Uther gives in. Right after the banquet that has been held to celebrate, he tolds Arthur that Merlin will become his personal servant when the both of them will turn sixteen.

Merlin grins like crazy when he hears the news and Arthur simply hugs him. When they part his cheeks are red and he mumbles a soft “it was only to celebrate” but he feels happy in such a new and perfect way.

*

When Arthur is about to turn fifteen his father takes him out for a ride through the countryside, up to the west border. They come back to Camelot when the sun has already set and Arthur waits until everyone in the castle is sleeping to slip outside. Careful not to be seen, he reaches Merlin’s house and rasps softly at the door in order not to wake Hunith up.

The door opens and Merlin’s face pops out, his eyes heavy with sleep and his hair ruffled. Arthur feels warm at the sight and manages to flash a small smile to his friend, even though what his father has told him keeps weighting down on him.

“Arthur! Are you alright?”

He nods quickly, sensing the worry in Merlin’s sleepy voice. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Father…father told me I’ve to go with him on his next campaign in a couple of months’ time.”

Merlin blinks and Arthur shivers even though the air is warm, because he wants nothing more than to take Merlin and run away, somewhere where they can continue to be kids, where there are no duties and no dangers.

When Merlin opens the door wider and hugs him, Arthur simply wraps his arms around his friend’s thin waist, and holds on.

///

On the scheduled day, at dawn, Merlin wakes up and runs to the courtyard to wish Arthur goodbye, but he can’t reach him because some guards hold him back while the king speaks to his knights before leaving. Merlin can see Arthur standing by his father’s side, he sees him as he mounts his horse. Arthur is already about to go through the main arch when Merlin succeeds in sliding in between two bulking guards.

“You better drag your ass back here when you’re finished!”, he yells. Arthur turns abruptly and his smile makes something twist in Merlin’s gut, even though he tries really hard not to think about it. Then his friend is gone and Merlin is left to stand alone in the middle of the courtyard.

It is in moments like this that Merlin realizes how Arthur sucks up all the time and the space; he has carved for himself an enormous space in Merlin’s life and Merlin doesn’t mind if it means being Arthur’s best friend.

Sometimes it is difficult, though. As they grow up Arthur has more and more things to learn and even people who were more lenient about their friendship at the beginning, like some of the knights, start to eye him with something akin to disdain as though he is some stone whose weight could drag the future king down into the dirt.

*

It is a few days after Arthur has left. Merlin has taken a walk out of the city and has arrived down at the river. Arthur’s absence seems to weigh over everything like a blanket of steel. They have never been apart for so long since they met six years before and, even though he feels stupid because of it, Merlin can’t help praying whoever is up there that Arthur will come back to Camelot unharmed.

He is lost in his thoughts when the sound of something hitting the water brings him back to the reality of the forest. Holding his breath, he scoots towards the river, careful to keep himself hidden behind the bushes of the underwood. At first, he doesn’t register who the boy swimming can be, but then he turns with a swish of shoulder-length hair and Merlin finds himself staring at Gwaine’s face.

Of course he knows who Gwaine is by name, even though they have never spoken to each other; the boy is one of the marauders of the citadel, always causing ruckus and playing pranks. Will has always hated him and Merlin has never thought that they could become friends; they are too different, he isn’t strong or cool enough. Not even starting to hang around with Arthur, who is opposite to him under so many aspects, has changed his mind.

That doesn’t prevent him from admiring Gwaine’s bravery and strength, nor to let his gaze slide over the beautiful lines of the boy’s face.

His cheeks immediately turn hotter as he realizes what he has just thought. It isn’t something new for him, though, to feel attracted by firm jaws and strong hands instead of pink lips and breasts.

He was twelve years old the first time he realized it and he was sitting on Arthur’s bed, reading him a book. When he closed the book and lifted his gaze, Arthur was asleep, lying on his stomach, his blond head a few inches away from Merlin’s knee. Outside it was dark and the room was immersed in the trembling light of the fireplace; it slid over Arthur’s blond hair, over his cheeks, caressing his skin. The way Merlin’s heartbeat accelerated scared him and he brought a hand up to his chest, clutching the fabric of his old tunic. He couldn’t understand why he was feeling breathless all of sudden. A few days later, he was at the training field with Arthur, who had insisted in dragging him along because “really, Merlin, you’re weaker than a freaking girl!”. Arthur had trained and sparred since he was a child and couldn’t hold anything more than a wooden sword, like the ones that Merlin and Will used to play with. Watching as his friend went through a particularly difficult routine, following his smooth movements, Merlin’s heart leaped inside his ribcage once again and his whole body seemed to charge up with energy. As Arthur’s jaw was set in concentration and his arms and legs moved with astonishing precision, Merlin understood. He was attracted by Arthur, he was attracted by boys, there was no other way of seeing it. He snapped out of it quickly when Arthur swatted him on the head and told him to concentrate.

Digging his heels deeper in the soft earth Merlin lets his gaze travel over the curves of Gwaine’s shoulders and arms. Only when the other boy exits the water Merlin averts his gaze. Feeling flushed from head to toe, he stumbles backwards, cringing when a fallen branch snaps under his weight. Gwaine looks straight at him and for an instant Merlin can’t move. He simply stares back, his mouth slightly open, aware that he must look like a complete idiot. Then Gwaine laughs; it is such an unexpected sound in the quiet of the forest and Merlin blinks, mesmerized both by the sound and by the flash of white and perfect teeth. When Gwaine takes a step forwards, though, Merlin scrambles to his feet and runs back towards the city without a second glance.

*

Merlin spends the rest of the day at the castle, busying himself in the workshop and running errands for Gaius in order to avoid meeting Gwaine. It is the first time that he finds himself in such an embarrassing situation. Since when he has started to be aware of his own body and needs, he has always kept it to himself; he has never actually talked about it, not even with Arthur.

He misses him, he misses the way he feels safe and in the right place when his friend is around. Will left few months before with his mother, after his uncle offered them to live with him and anyway at some point over time Arthur has become the centre of Merlin’s little world and there is no way he could or want to change that.

If Arthur were there Merlin wouldn’t think so much about Gwaine, if Arthur were there he wouldn’t feel lonely and bored and therefore he wouldn’t sit under the big oak right outside the eastern walls one lazy afternoon and Gwaine wouldn’t sit beside him.

At first Merlin seriously considers getting to his feet, running to his house and locking himself inside. But then Gwaine takes hold of his wrist and his touch is soft and careful, nothing like the strong grip Merlin has imagined.

“I don’t bite, you know?”

Merlin blinks.

“You…you don’t want to beat the crap out of me?”

Gwaine throws his head back and laughs. Merlin forces himself to look away from the taut arch of the boy’s neck.

“Why would I do that?”

There are small lines at the corners of his eyes and his smile is broad and friendly. Merlin thinks that he is nothing like the bully he and Will have imagined him to be for so long.

“Well…the other day…I was…”

The words get stuck in his throat, because what can he say? Going on would mean being completely open in front of Gwaine and it scares Merlin to no end. He is well aware of what people think about these things, he has heard the speeches of the court men and of the monks who stand in the middle of the town square now and then and talk for hours about sins and hell. He doesn’t want his mother to hate him, he doesn’t want people to point at him as if he was evil, above all he doesn’t want Arthur to push him away.

Gwaine’s hand is warm and comforting on his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me.”

Merlin forces himself to lift his gaze.

“It’s alright. I don’t even know your name, but I can tell you anyway that it’s alright. There’s nothing wrong with you, don’t even think that.”

Merlin opens and closes his mouth.

“You… you really think so?”

Gwaine nods, his long hair dancing around his face.

“Of course I do. And, well, if you like boys, I definitely don’t mind.”

And, honest to God, he winks. Merlin feels his cheeks grow hotter instantly; no way he could have misunderstood what Gwaine has said, right? He has to swallow around the lump that has formed in his throat all of sudden. No one has ever shown that kind of interest in him so far and he is torn between feeling giddy with the thought and being embarrassed by it. Once more it is Gwaine’s laugh to dissolve all the tension and the confusion.

“You’re red like a tomato, my friend!”

Even though he knows he is stupid, Merlin can’t help grinning at the boy’s deliberate use of the word _friend_.

“You look really nice when you smile.”

Gwaine grins and Merlin feels brave enough to punch his shoulder lightly.

“Keep it in your pants.”

Gwaine rises to his feet and offers Merlin a hand to pull him up.

“Well, we’ll see about that!”

3.

_I'm miles from where you are,_

_I lay down on the cold ground_

_I pray that something picks me up_

_And sets me down in your warm arms_

The sky is low and dark over the camp as Arthur seats beside the fire; guards are already on their spots and his father has retired inside his tent.

It is at night that he misses Camelot, home, the most.  He misses the soft light in the armory, his training with sir Abesforth and, even though he probably would never admit it out loud, he misses Merlin. He misses how easy it is to be around him and how safe he feels when they seat together in front of the fireplace in his chambers, reading some story out of old books or simply enjoying each other’s company.

Being out with his father is where he is supposed to be, but it is scary most of the time- the tension crackling  in the air as they approach the border, the wind whistling between the tents at night. Arthur knows that he has to be brave and strong because one day he will be the one to guide these men, but sometimes, when he lies awake in his tent at night and all around him all the camp is asleep, he wishes he could have born a servant, like Merlin.

It confuses him how much he thinks about the other boy; even the smallest of things brings his mind back to Camelot and to his best friend- a hawk flying high over the hills, an apple redder than the others, a rabbit that crosses their path- all things that Merlin would notice. He doesn’t know why he keps thinking about Merlin, what he knows is that he wants to go back to Camelot, because then they will spend all the time together as they used to, and even more because Merlin is going to become his servant.

*

Then, on a clear evening they arrive at the border with Mercia. Arthur is by Uther’s side, looking down at the valley that opens at their feet. He can already spot the tents of the Mercian camp and the streaks of smoke rising up in the air.

The wind tugs at his hair and he barely registers what his father is telling to the knights, because his brain keeps revolving around the thoughts of blood and pain and the clanging of sword against word. He has only heard or read about battles, but the following day he will be right in the middle of one. He thinks of his mother, whishing she could be alive, whishing he could have her to go back to. Then, as he is looking at the orange sparks that the Mercian spears reflect under the setting sun, he remembers what Merlin told him, _“You better drag your ass back here when you’re finished!”_. It probably shouldn’t make him feel warm from the tip of his hair to his toes, but it does.

In this moment, while Uther talks about honor and bravery, Arthur knows that in Merlin he has a home to come back to.

*

Arthur blinks against the sweat dripping down his face and blurring his vision. His arms hurt with the effort of stopping the blows that are coming from every direction. This isn’t like sparring in the castle’s courtyard; the Mercians know that he is the king’s son and they just keep coming, more and more of them.

Somewhere something is burning, the smell of smoke filling Arthur’s nostrils. He barely hears sir Eldric telling him to look his back when a sharp pain cuts through his shoulder blade. Arthur tries to breathe, he really tries, but the dented armor presses down on his lungs, making it almost impossible. He barely manages to stop another blow before everything starts to sway in front of his eyes, swords and armors and horses. He can’t hear anything, though; there is just silence in his ears.

///

Merlin is out in the woods with Gwaine- Gaius has sent him to gather some herbs and the other boy has decided to tag along. Not that Merlin is complaining, being around Gwaine is refreshing, even though they always seem to end in improbable situations. Like the time when they decided to sneak into the tavern and ended up running thought the citadel, trying to shake off a man that had lost his money to Gwaine who had gambled quite shamelessly. When they reached the safety of Gaius’ workshop Merlin laughed so much that his stomach hurt.

“How do you even know which herbs to pick?”

Merlin rolls his eyes playfully.

“Well, even you could do that!”

Gwaine bumps their shoulders together.

“I’ll let you know that I’m really bright!”

Merlin chuckles.

“Oh, yeah? And who tells you that?”

“Well, me of course!”

Merlin is about to answer when every single muscle in his body seem to stop functioning. He simply stands there, rooted to the spot, his heart beating like a drum and echoing along his veins up up until it roars in his ears.

“Merlin? Are you alright?”

Merlin tries to open his mouth to say that no, he totally isn’t alright, but his lips won’t  answer. All of sudden it is as though someone has lit a fire right underneath him; his skin seems to burn, his throat too tight to even swallow.

Gwaine’s hands are on his shoulder but pull away quickly.

“Blimey! You’re scorching!”

Gwaine grabs his wrist trying to pull him, but Merlin’s legs are like stone, planted into the warm earth of the underwood.

All the way back to the castle Gwaine carries him on his back and Merlin tries with all his might to make his body function again. When he realizes that it won’t work, tears form into his eyes, and those, yes, manage to fall and splash over Gwaine’s shirt.

“It’s going to be alright, Merlin! I promise!”

Another wave of heat washes over him, his interiors churning; this time his head begins to twirl until darkness falls.

*

When he opens his eyes again he is laying on Gaius’ bed and he is alone. His eyelids feel heavy as his limbs, but this time he manages to wriggle his fingers and raise his arms, even though it hurts like hell to do so.

He is about to call for Gaius, when a shiver runs down his spine, his hair stand up. A sharp pain cuts through his shoulder and Merlin gulps down air. Only a name manages to form in his mind clouded by the pain: Arthur.

His blood freezes, because in this moment he knows with certainty that something is wrong and that his best friend is in danger. It is as if every cell in his body is screaming for him to do something for Heaven’s sake!

Something warm swirls down his weak arms and around his fingers. His eyelids are heavy but Merlin forces his eyes open and his breath gets stuck somewhere deep inside his lungs. His hands are glowing, a soft golden light pulsing underneath his skin and spreading all around. Fear drips cold down his spine but there is no time for that; he lets his instincts guide him, like when he was a kid and used to follow his mother around, trying to put his feet where hers had left footprints in the soft earth.

He lets whatever is inside of him act, hoping that it will be enough. Something cracks inside of him, pressing against his ribcage and in this moment he is sure he can hear Arthur’s voice, feel his movements as he tries to scramble towards safety.

///

Arthur closes his eyes waiting for the blow to come, but nothing happens. He blinks his eyes open to find the Mercian soldier lying on the ground. He almost yelps in surprise as he realizes that there is some kind of light sliding over his armor, enveloping him like a blanket.

Quickly, he spins around, trying to spot the sorcerer that is casting such a spell on him, wondering if that light can seep through the armor and kill him. There is no one in sight, though; the battle is finally ebbing down, Mercian soldiers retreating, stumbling towards the hills.

Arthur falls on his knees, the light shifting gently around him. He realizes that he doesn’t feel the pain of the wound anymore, there is only warmth and a quiet buzz at the back of his mind. He sees sir Pelinore running towards him; realizing that he is finally safe he lets himself go, sliding to the ground.

A peaceful whiteness blossoms behind his closed eyelids. Quiet words reach his ears and he briefly wonders if he has died and is waiting to stumble his way into the afterlife.

_“Come back home, please.”_

///

The words slip through Merlin’s lips, even though he knows all too well that Arthur is miles away and can’t hear them.

“Come back home, please.”

Slowly his skin stops glowing and breathing becomes easier; somewhere deep inside he is certain that Arthur will come back.  The relief isn’t long lived, though, because what he has done…what was that? He closes his eyes, listening to his heartbeat, to the regular rushing of blood along his veins.

The tears come without permission. Strings of possibilities form and dissolve in Merlin’s mind; what is he supposed to do? Has he had magic inside of him since the beginning? And if so why has it come out only now? What if someone discovers it?

A sob rolls past his dry lips as he imagines the look on his mother’s face, Uther’s hatred and Arthur’s disdain. He can’t afford to lose Arthur. If remaining by his side in Camelot means hiding who he is, he has no other choice but do it, bury this _thing_ deep inside of him and never let it see the light again.

*

Night has already fallen when he wakes up again; Gaius is back and is busy preparing some kind of concoction, his back to him. Merlin shifts on the bed only to find that something heavy is settled on his legs; with some effort he props himself up on his elbows. He is startled to see that the weight he has felt is Gwaine’s head. The other boy is asleep, hair falling in front of his face. A sudden warmth blossoms inside of Merlin at the thought that Gwaine has remained by his side.

Memories of what has happened wash over him and a new surge of panic flares deep inside his bones. Gwaine probably wouldn’t be there if he knew what Merlin has done, if he knew what Merlin is.

Gaius finally turns and Merlin tries to blink back the tears that are already threatening to fall.

“Oh, you are awake, my boy! How are you feeling?”

Merlin’s throat feels too tight; the relief visible on Gaius’ features is almost unbearable. He feels as though he has betrayed him and his mother and everyone else. The old man must have noticed his distress because he quickly pads over to the bed; his hand is careful and gentle on Merlin’s shoulder and he wishes he was strong enough to shrug it off but the truth is he needs someone who can ground him to reality, who can make him feel safe.

Even though he is terrified that he could find out, Merlin wishes Arthur could be there.

“Merlin, talk to me. Does something hurt?”

Merlin lifts his gaze and meets Gaius’ worried one.

“Gaius…”

His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, broken and teary. A sharp gasp escapes him when Gaius presses his hand against his forehead to check his temperature and that traitorous thing hidden inside of him flares up at the contact.

Gaius’ eyes widen and Merlin’s heart slams against his ribcage over and over. Did Gaius feel it?

He is about to open his mouth to speak, hoping that he is able to form coherent words, when Gwaine stirs and blinks his eyes open. As soon as his gaze lands on Merlin he jerks up suddenly fully awake.

“Heavens! You’re alright, Merlin! Don’t you dare pass out on me like that again!”

And, really, Merlin knows he isn’t supposed to, but he can’t help laughing at Gwaine’s expression. The other boy grins, his hand curling around Merlin’s. His heart stutters in a new, unknown way, but magic doesn’t stir inside of him as it has done when Gaius touched him.

“I do think that Merlin will need some more rest now, Gwaine.”

Merlin’s heart jolts at Gaius’ words; he briefly contemplates asking Gwaine to stay, to keep holding his hand just like that, but if Gaius knows there was no way he can avoid it, stalling or running away would be no use.

“Oh, c’mon he just woke up!”

Merlin shyly squeezes Gwaine’s hand.

“It’s…it’s alright. I’ll…see you tomorrow?”

Gwaine looks at him carefully, as though he is looking for something, but finally he smiles and nods.

“Of course, Merlin! You won’t get rid of me that easily!”

Gaius waits until Gwaine has closed the workshop’s door behind his back before sitting at the end of the bed. Silence stretches between them and Merlin wants nothing more than break it and ask Gaius what is wrong with him, if there is something he can do to fix him.

When Gaius speaks his voice is gentle, as it was when Merlin was a kid and he told him about faraway lands and wonders.

“You don’t have to be afraid, my boy. I won’t tell. You and me…we are the same.”

“Wh…what does it mean?”

Gaius flashes a small, sad smile in his direction.

“It means I learnt how to use magic many years ago. It means I understand that you’re scared and confused right now.”

Merlin looks at his hands in his lap.

“I…I didn’t learn it…”

Gaius looks at him, an unreadable expression in his grey eyes.

“I know, my boy…”

“How…how could you know that?”

Merlin wishes he could understand, wishes things could stop spiraling out of his control.

“When I touched you before, your magic answered to mine, I could feel it.”

Merlin tilts his head to the side, forcing his brain to work faster despite the vestiges of tiredness.

“But…it had never happened before!”

“That is because your magic hadn’t been awake before.”

Merlin remains silent even though there are so many things he wants to ask, to understand.

“Don’t worry I will teach you what I know, even though, considering how strong the magic inside of you is, my knowledge is probably too poor.”

Merlin swallows.

“Is…is it really so strong? How…how can I manage to control it, then?”

Gaius smiles and pats his knee gently.

“Oh, that it is, but it’s yours, Merlin, and you will not have any problem in controlling it. Magic is not inherently evil as our King thinks and your heart is pure and strong, my boy. Your magic will be just as pure.”

Merlin’s head is spinning because of the mass of information that it is supposed to elaborate. He still feels uncertain and scared, but he wants to believe Gaius, he knows that he can trust the old man. Then his thoughts go to his mother.

“Does…does my mother know that…that I’m like this?”

Gaius takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“She…she might suspect it, yes, and before you ask, no she won’t hate you for this. You can tell her, she loves you and she will be proud of you.”

A sigh of relief escapes Merlin’s lips but another weight lands on his heart as he thinks of Arthur.

“And…what…what should I do with Arthur and Gwaine and…”

Gaius’ eyes grow wide.

“Oh, you cannot tell them, my boy! I know that you trust them and that they care about you but…it’s too dangerous, you know what is the punishment for sorcery here in Camelot.”

Merlin tilts his head back and looka at the stone ceiling blinking, his eyes already tingling with upcoming tears.

“I…my magic…it was for Arthur, I think. I…I sensed he was in danger.”

“That could be possible, my boy. Magic often comes entwined with emotions, particularly when it comes to those who have it inside of them since they were born, like you.”

Merlin takes a deep breath and another and another.

“I…what if I need to help him again, Gaius?”

“I suppose you can do it, Merlin, but…he must not know it.”

Something heavy settles at the bottom of Merlin’s stomach; he has never lied to Arthur and now he has to keep such a huge part of himself from him.

“I…I’ll try to do that.”

Gaius flashes a reassuring smile at him, his old hand gently squeezing his shoulder.

“I knew that you would understand, my boy.”

*

A couple of days later, news of the battle finally reach Camelot; the King and his knights are on their way back, Arthur has been injured but he has recovered quickly and the Mercian army has been defeated.

Merlin doesn’t manage to cheer as everyone else does. There is nothing he wants more than to see Arthur, but he is scared, scared about what lying to him will make of them.

Gwaine sticks to his side; he is there the morning after the talk Merlin has had with Gaius and he doesn’t ask questions, he is simply there without asking for permission or for anything in return. Spending time with the other boy is somehow freeing; it helps him forget about the magic that he is carrying inside, the magic that sometimes would wake him up at night, jolting behind his sternum.

More often than not Merlin doubts that Gaius has been right when he has told him that he could control it.

///

Arthur is positively sure that his heart is going to burst because of the sheer joy he is feeling as Camelot appears in front of them, even though they still have at least four days of travel ahead of them. He has never been away from home for so long before and seeing the white towers and the puffs of smoke rising towards the pale sky up above makes him truly understand how much he has missed it.

He has always dreamt of the faraway places he and Merlin would visit when he would finally be king, but in this moment he knows he will always be happy to come back to Camelot, to the place where his mother lived, where he grew up beside a skinny, irreverent kid who had become his best friend.

///

It has been hard to master enough courage to talk to his mother. Merlin knows that she loves him, of course he does, but what he has just discovered seemed to much even for a mother to bear. When he seats in front of her one night, he keeps his gaze focused on the coarse surface of the table, a heavy knot pressing against his sternum and making it a bit harder to breathe.

“Are you alright, love?”

Merlin doesn’t look up but he can perfectly picture the expression that she is wearing- her eyes warm and concerned, her lips a thin rosy line. He doesn’t want her to worry, he doesn’t want her to feel ashamed.

“Mum…”

He doesn’t even try not to sound broken. Hunith’s hand is on his instantly, her skin coarse because of the work and her touch gentle as always.

“You’re worrying me now.”

Merlin takes a deep breath.

“I…I discovered something today.”

Hunith squeezes his hand and Merlin is grateful for that; it anchors him to reality, even though right now reality isn’t something he feels ready enough to face.

“I…don’t hate me, mum.”

And, God, it sounds so stupid to say something like that to your own mother, but he has seen what happens to people like him. They are dragged into the courtyard, disowned and often betrayed by their own families. Abandoned.

Hunith gently presses a finger under his chin and finally Merlin lifts his gaze.

“Never think that, Merlin. I love you and I always will, no matter what.”

Merlin can see it, the look in his mother eyes, the one that she has been wearing since he has memories, the one that makes him feel special and loved and not alone. She has to know; he can’t hold it back, not from her.

“I’ve magic, mum.”

It slips past his lips and falls on the wooden table, just like that. In the few moments of silence waiting for Hunith to speak, Merlin has he sensation that his heart has stopped beating.

Then his mother smiles, beautiful and quiet like a summer afternoon, like home and acceptance.

“I knew it would happen sooner or later.”

Merlin blinks, his mind twirling as it tries to put all the pieces back together. Gaius has told him that she might have suspected he had magic, right?

“What does that mean, mum?”

He wishes that someone could explain everything to him, because he feels too small and lost in the middle of something enormous and unknown, some place that doesn’t appear on the maps Arthur and him used to stare at when they were kids.

Hunith’s hands are on his

“I hope you can forgive me for not having told you this before.”

Merlin swallows and waits for her to keep talking.

“Your father…he was…he had magic, he was a dragon lord.”

For an instant Merlin thinks he has heard it all wrong, but the expression on his mother’s face is serious and he knows that she is telling the truth.

_How is it possible? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?_

“Why you didn’t tell me?”

He knows his mother has always done what was best for him, has always loved and protected him, but he can’t stop the anger that is crawling up his throat; his magic simmering along with it.

A father…he has spent years wondering how he looked like, how it would be like to talk to him, to have him teach him the names of constellations and the working of nature instead of reading them out of some dusty book.

A dragon lord…he has only read of them in books of legends and fairytales, he didn’t even know they existed for real! If he had been here he could have taught him how to control the sparkling turmoil thrumming along his veins, mixed with blood so tight that he couldn’t’ even think of separating magic from himself.

He has never realized how much he wants, how much he _needs_ , his father.

“He couldn’t stay here, because of Uther. He… I don’t even know if he is alive, Merlin.”

It’s then that Merlin sees them, the tears that are streaking down his mother’s face. He wants to reach out, to pull her close, hug her and tell her that he is not going to leave her, that he is always going to be by her side, but at the same time the anger is still there, clogging his veins and making his heart throb painfully.

Before he is even aware of it, he is pulling himself away from the table.

“I…I need some time to clear my mind, mum.”

She nods, tears still streaming down her cheeks and falling over the surface of the table.

The fading daylight hurts his eyes and Merlin blinks, trying to lift the mist that is clouding his mind in order to find a place where to go, a safe place, because everything feels too broad and foreign right now. There’s only one place that comes to his mind, a sad smile stretches his lips at the thought.

Careful not to make any noise he closes the door behind his back and leans against it. He has the feeling that time has stopped its flow here in Arthur’s chambers. It’s as though everything is waiting for him to come back. Sighing, he walks up to the bed, running his knuckles over the heavy blankets.

His magic bumps against his ribcage as it sloshes around. It feels so weird, to have this thing inside of him, not knowing if it’s some kind of parasite or part of him like his blood and his bones. He wonders if his father would have been able to explain it to him, if he would have been so scared if he was by his side.

As he lays on Arthur’s bed, curling up as he used to do when he was a kid and he had just had a nightmare, the only thing that Merlin is sure of is that he wishes that Arthur could be here and yet he knows that he can’t talk to him about this. It makes him feel so lonely that it is hard to stand.

*

When he comes back home Hunith is still sat at the table, her hands curled around the small wooden dragon Merlin has had since he hadn’t learn how to talk.

“Mum…”

His voice is slightly hoarse because of the hours he has spent on his own, with the only company of his imagination conjuring scenes of his father holding him close to his chest, of his father running away.

Hunith lifts her gaze, her eyes are red because of the tears. The sight tugs at Merlin’s heart and he walks up to her, wrapping her small body in his arms.

“It’s alright, mum. You didn’t have any choice…I won’t let anyone know about my magic, I won’t have to leave you.”

She buries her face in the crook of his elbow and doesn’t let go.

///

Standing by his father’s side as he speaks to the people gathered in the courtyard, Arthur lets his gaze slip around, trying to spot Merlin’s black mop of hair. When he finally spots him, Merlin isn’t smiling like everyone else; he is chewing at his lower lip, as he does when he was nervous. Arthur takes in his slightly hunched shoulders, before turning his attention to the boy standing by his side. He recognizes him as Gwaine, the boy who is famous in the citadel for being a first class marauder. Merlin has talked about him sometimes, but Arthur has never imagined that the two of them could become close to each other. He lowers his gaze as he realizes that what he is feeling is jealousy. He tries to focus on his father’s words; he hates himself a bit when he realizes that he can’t.

He doesn’t manage to talk to Merlin until the following day. He has expected him to burst through the wooden door of his room, all big blue eyes and omnipresent grin, but he wakes up to an old maid entering his room to deliver his breakfast. He tries not to think about the weight that settles on his stomach as disappointment.

The morning slips by incredibly slowly; Arthur spends most of it sitting in his room staring at the map hung on the wall, the parchments on his desk long forgotten. He finds himself wishing that he could go forward in time, to a  time and a place where he won’t feel so small and unable to become a king because he will already be one. To a time when Merlin won’t avoid him, because that much is clear.

When the black lines of the map and the coloured crosses Merlin and him drew when they were kids start to blur in front of his eyes, Arthur decides he has had enough.

As he walks along the corridor in the direction of Gaius’ workshop he tries hard to keep the beating of his heart under control but it keeps slamming against his ribcage as the one of a frightened rabbit.

“I’m afraid Merlin won’t be back before sunset, sire.”

Arthur blinks, wondering why Gaius too is being so evasive.

“Where is he, then?”

“He is out in the woods collecting herbs with Gwaine.”

For a foolish instant Arthur almost wishes he could be back at the border, fighting for his life because at least while he was there he had known what to expect. Being back home isn’t as happy as he imagined it to be without Merlin’s jokes and grins.

“Thank you, Gaius.”

Arthur closes the door of the workshop behind his back and starts off in the direction of the woods.

///

Merlin keeps walking; he doesn’t feel like stopping to collect herbs yet. He needs the movement, maybe it will help his brain to work better because right now it is a jumble of emotions which he can’t possibly comprehend or unravel.

Arthur is back and he wants nothing more than hug him and listen to what he has to tell about his first campaign. He can’t bring himself to be near him, though. How could he look at him in the eyes knowing that he is exactly what Arthur has been taught to hate.

“You seem like you’re somewhere faraway, Merlin.”

Gwaine’s voice comes like an anchor in the messy sea of his thoughts and Merlin is unbelievably grateful for it. He has never imagine he could let the other boy come so close to him, in the end he has only allowed Will and then Arthur to truly get to see him past the happy and carefree façade. Maybe that is the reason why it hurts so much, to know that he can’t show them such a big part of his being as magic. Sometimes he wonders if maybe the gods want to punish him, because the weight of it is simply too much to bear without the possibility to share it with them.

He turns to look at Gwaine; he hates himself a bit at the thought that he is the reason for the worried expression he is wearing.

“I…sorry.”

“Are you alright? Do you feel sick again?”

Gwaine’s hands are on his forehead in one smooth motion and for an instant Merlin’s breath stutters. He looks right in Gwaine’s eyes and once more he can’t help thinking that the other boy truly is beautiful. He would be lying if he denied that since he started hanging out with Gwaine he hasn’t thought about him _that_ way. But everything in this field is so new and unknown to Merlin and Gwaine is his friend. He isn’t supposed to think about his hands and his smile and, well, he isn’t supposed to, right?

“Sometimes I wish I could read your mind, you know that?”

Merlin feels his eyes grow wider and watches as a grin stretch Gwaine’s lips.

“Oh, that’s what you were thinking about then.”

Merlin splutters, trying to make his brain work in order to find a sensible answer.

“I…uh…what are you saying…”

Gwaine lets his hand slip from Merlin’s forehead to his cheek.

“What I’m saying is that I’ve an idea of what you were thinking about…”

“But…”

“And I know because I was thinking pretty much the same thing.”

Merlin opens and closes his mouth, trying to fish words but failing.  Gwaine smiles gently this time, stroking his thumb over the high curve of Merlin’s cheekbone. Merlin swallows, wishing that he knew what to do, wishing that his heart wasn’t beating so hard that it drowned every other sound.

“Can I kiss you, Merlin?”

“Y-yeah?”

Gwaine laughs softly before closing the distance between them.

It doesn’t feel like anything Merlin has ever experienced, it sends waves of warmth splashing around in his stomach and makes his head feel lighter. Without thinking twice about it he takes hold of Gwaine’s tunic and moves closer.

If for an instant the thought of Arthur crosses his mind he simply kisses Gwaine harder, the low growl that escapes the other boy’s throat managing to push aside every other thought.

///

Arthur stops in his tracks and holds his breath. He wonders if it is really possible for hearts to sink.

At first it is confusion, sheer confusion at the sight of Merlin kissing Gwaine. Weren’t they supposed to kiss girls? Then comes the helplessness because he wants nothing more than to grab Merlin and drag him away. He tries hard not to wonder why he feels like this, why he feels as though he has been beaten and has lost something he has wanted for ages.

He looks at Gwaine’s hands gently cupping Merlin’s face and memories of dreams he has had bubble inside of him like boiling water.

*

The first time he dreamt of Merlin he had just turned fourteen and he woke up in the morning feeling trapped in his own skin, sweating and panting and wishing he could give a proper sense to all of it. As the vivid sensations started to ebb away, though, he had convinced himself that it wasn’t nothing serious, that it probably happened to everyone, in the end Merlin was his best friend, they spent most of their time together, it was only normal that he would dream about him.

Except it happened again and again. Arthur kept it for himself and tried to behave as normally as possible around his best friend- it wasn’t difficult, it was as though when he was around Merlin the better and brighter side of himself managed to emerge. It kept him up at night, though, the thought that if he fell asleep he could dream of Merlin and end up wanting to kiss him for real.

That was why, one day, just a week before he was due to leave with his father for the campaign, he mustered enough courage and knocked on Morgana’s room door. She looked at him in surprise, not used to him paying her visits- while they had been really close when they were kids, slowly the balance in their relationship had shifted as they grew up, Morgana becoming closer and closer to the lady she was supposed to be and Arthur struggling to become what his father wanted.

“Arthur, to what do I own the pleasure?”

Arthur shifted his weight from left to right nervously and the smirk on her face quickly faded into a gentler smile.

“Is something wrong?”

Arthur took a deep breath before walking over and sitting at the end of her bed.

“I…promise you won’t laugh at me, Morgana!”

“Oh, I can’t promise you that, but I’ll try.”

Her eyes were intent and kind and Arthur decided to believe her.

“I…keep having these…dreams…”

“Well, that’s normal when you sleep, right?”

Arthur sighed and worried his lower lip trying to find a way to say what he needed to without dying of embarrassment.

“Yes, but, you see…these dreams…”

He swallowed as memories of Merlin’s lips and pale skin flashed in a dark corner of his mind. Morgana’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her features.

“Oh, you mean that kind of dreams?”

Arthur nodded, feeling like a lost child and keeping his gaze focused on the stone floor.

“Well…what about them?”

Arthur finally lifted his gaze; Morgana was slowly brushing her hair, her eyes focused, there was no trace of derision on her beautiful face.

“They…I’m supposed to have those dreams about girls, right?”

Morgana tilted her head to the side.

“I’d say…I’d say that there’s not a rule about it.”

Arthur blinked, feeling oddly lighter.

“So…you’re having this dreams about a boy?”

“I…yeah…”

Then Morgana grinned, her green eyes glinting.

“And would he happen to be Merlin?”

Arthur wondered briefly if a person’s throat could really become as dry as a desert.

“I…What are you…”

Morgana shook her head, an amused smile on her lips.

“Look, he is your best friend, I think it’s pretty normal, maybe it’s a phase.”

_What if I don’t want it to be a phase?_

“But even if it isn’t, there’s nothing wrong with in, in my opinion.”

She laid a hand on his forearm; all the tension had left Arthur’s body at the contact.

“Thank you.”

Morgana smiled once more before getting back to brush her hair.

“And now as you see I’m really busy and I’ve no time to waste with my annoying brother.”

Arthur grinned and left the room. He still didn’t know how to deal with his dreams but as soon as Merlin bustled through his chamber’s door grinning and asking him if he felt like going for a swim at the stream, Arthur thought that his dreams didn’t matter much in the end if compared to their friendship.

*

It all comes rushing to him now, though- the mornings he has woken up with his fingertips tingling from the desire to trace the line of Merlin’s face and body. It is so powerful that it almost squeezes all the air out of his lungs.

When he finally regains control of his body he does the only thing that make sense; he runs, stumbling through the underwood, his throat burning and his heart too broken to beat properly.

///

Merlin blinks, his lungs feel too small and his lips tingle. Gwaine grins and it is then that it hits Merlin- that has been his first kiss. For an instant something twists at the bottom of his stomach; he doesn’t know why, but he feels as though he has broken a promise. Then Gwaine’s lips are on his again and Merlin follows what his drumming heart tells him to do.

When he goes to bed at night, though, all he can think of is Arthur. What would he think if he knew? What it would have been like if his first kiss had been with him?

Merlin hates himself for having even though about it, but his thoughts keep wandering in that direction, his magic curling and uncurling like a restless animal.

*

After having managed to avoid Arthur for a whole day Merlin wakes up knowing all too well that he can’t avoid him forever; he doesn’t want to.

Standing in front of the door to the prince’s chamber he takes a deep breath as he tries to balance the tray in his hands. He briefly wonders if he would be able to be Arthur’s manservant for real in a few days, when he will finally will turn sixteen.

He knocks and waits patiently for Arthur’s reply. When it doesn’t come Merlin carefully pushes the old door open and steps inside. Arthur is hidden inside a cocoon of blankets and Merlin smiles at the sight. They used to build forts with the royal sheets all the time when they were kids; Arthur always wanted to be the knight in shiny armor and Merlin often ended up playing the part of the damsel in distress. He finds it quite ironic now, indeed.

He sets the tray on the wooden table and walks up to the bed to wake Arthur up. His brows are furrowed and his mouth twisted in a hard line, Merlin wonders what he could be dreaming about. He reaches out and settles his hand on the prince’s shoulder but before he can shake him awake his magic starts dancing in his fingertips, slowly descending down his arms until it reaches a secret unknown place deep inside of him. Merlin opens and closes his mouth, his magic alive and flaring inside of him.

Arthur stirs under his touch and Merlin wonders if he can feel it, the magic brushing against his nightgown and probably seeping down to his skin. He swallows dry and tries hard to bring the magic back under his control; it calms down but it still lingers, a soft humming buzz in his ears.

“H-hey sleepyhead, time to get up!”

He hopes his tone doesn’t betray his confusion. Arthur blinks his eyes open.

“Merlin?”

In an instant he props himself up in a sitting position, Merlin takes a step back startled. He can practically feel the tension coming off Arthur in waves. He wonders how it is possible for them to change so much over the time Arthur has spent away during the campaign- it hurts to think that what they had wasn’t as strong as he has always thought it to be.

“I...I thought it would be good to exercise a bit.”

Arthur presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids.

“For what?”

Merlin feels stupid because what snakes around in his mind on this very moment is definitely disappointment at the thought that probably Arthur isn’t looking forward him becoming his manservant as much as he does.

“I’ll turn sixteen in a week and you know that your father…”

Arthur’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh, I had forgotten it was already the time for that.”

Merlin lowers his gaze and swallows thickly.

“Well…your breakfast is on the table. I’ve got to go now.”

Arthur’s fingertips brush against his wrist making another burst of magic slam against Merlin’s ribcage. He doesn’t turn, though, he doesn’t need more confusion right now. He walks up to the door and slips out, his heart heavy like a rock, cursing himself, his magic and whatever has managed to create this distance between him and his best friend.

*

Gwaine brings him flowers on the day of his birthday; Merlin feels his ears grow hot and his cheeks almost ache as he smiles.

From Arthur he gets a new tunic and small note, both delivered by a page. The note says: _Happy birthday, Merlin. I hope you’ll like this, the colour made me think of you. A._

He stares at the deep blue of the fabric; it makes him think of a night’s sky in the middle of summer, it sends chills spiraling down his spine.

*

The day right after his birthday, Hunith takes Merlin with her in the kitchens early in the morning and teaches him how to present the dishes, how hide the bread under the ashes in the fireplace to  warm it up if he gets up late. Merlin listens to her carefully and wonders why things had to change, why he can’t be anymore the thirteen years old who was couldn’t wait to spend all of his time by his best friend’s side.

Merlin is walking along the corridor on the first floor towards the stairs when Gwaine intercepts him. He grins like an excited child and presses a kiss to Merlin’s cheek.

“You’re going to be amazing!”

Merlin smiles, glances around and when he sees that there’s no one around presses a small kiss to Gwaine’s lips. It’s comforting and grounding and Merlin lets Gwaine’s low hum reverberate through him as he climbs the stairs two at a time.

Arthur is already awake when Merlin enters his chambers. He focuses on pouring warm milk in a mug; he almost drops the jug as he feels the warm pressure of Arthur’s hand against his shoulder.

He turns so quickly that his head spins.

“Arthur, what…”

“I’m sorry. I did something to upset you, I guess?”

Merlin looks at Arthur and it’s as though he is seeing him for real after days spent tiptoeing around him. He takes in Arthur’s hopeful eyes, he has learnt all the shadows and twists of them a long time ago. Smiling he bumps their shoulders together.

“It’s alright.”

Arthur grins, the brief flash of crooked teeth makes Merlin’s magic twist unexpectedly.

“Now let’s see if my new manservant has managed to bring me a good breakfast.”

“I’ll let you know I’m an awesome manservant!”

Arthur chuckles and motions for Merlin to seat pushing some fruit and bread towards him.

“We’ll see about that. For now you sure are my best friend.”

Merlin blinks at Arthur’s display of affection; they usually don’t need words to let the other know that they care. It sure is new but not unpleasant at all. If the thought that things can’t be back to how they used to be before he discovered his magic brushes dark against his happiness he lets Arthur’s smile drown it for now.

*

He tries to bring up the fact that he and Gwaine are sort of an item now, but he never seems to find the right words. Merlin knows that Arthur sees them when Gwaine manages to sneak into the castle to bring him small things like an apple, a flower and always presses a quick kiss on his cheek. Sometimes he wonders what Arthur thinks about it, sometimes he wonders if he is imagining the shadow that lurks in Arthur’s eyes on those moments.

He already has his magic to keep hidden, weighting down on him like a chain; it makes him nervous to think that his best friend might find him wrong or twisted because of the gender of the people he feels attracted to. He needs to know that Arthur will always be there for him, but he doesn’t know how to ask.

Then, one night Merlin is preparing the bed when Arthur clears his throat. He looks up at him, his hands still tangled in the linen sheets.

“It’s fine with me, you know?”

Arthur isn’t looking at him, he is leaning against the stone wall and looking out of the window. Merlin takes in his profile, the light of the half-moon sliding over his cheekbones. A knot ties right behind his sternum; he grips the sheets a bit tighter.

“What is fine with you?”

It takes a few second for Arthur to answer and when he does his voice is barely a whisper.

“You and Gwaine.”

Merlin is positively sure that his intake of breath could be heard until the end of the world. It’s then that Arthur turns, his eyes gentle and a small smile on his lips.

“Don’t be so surprised, Merlin. You’re always you.”

Merlin doesn’t even try to control the broad smile that’s blossoming on his face, nor the butterflies that seem to fly around in his stomach.

 

 

 

 

4.

_Flashed up in my wildest dreams, like red blood streams, stretch out like vast cracked ice_

_The veins of you, the veins of me, like great forest trees_

_Pushing through and on and in_

Now that Merlin is back in his personal space Arthur feels somehow calmer, even though the thrumming under his skin at the thought of him and Gwaine still is there.

It’s Merlin who wakes him up in the morning and accompanies him to those boring council’s meetings. It feels good to sit with him in the evening, laughing at the ridiculous dress lady Helen wore at the court or complaining about the way his father always scolds him for not trying hard enough.

Still, there are moments when all that Arthur can see is the way Merlin’s Adam apple bobs up and down when he swallows, the soft sloop of his long neck or the way Merlin’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs.

Those things have always been there and yet they seem to shine brighter now, to cut through him like a sharp blade, setting the ends of his nerves on fire and leaving him breathing faster and lying awake at night wishing that Merlin could be there.

There also are moments when Arthur finds it really hard to breathe, like the first time Merlin helped him dress, his fingertips brushing softly over his sternum as he buttoned up his tunic, or the first time Merlin drew a bath for him. The both of them blushed up to the roots of their hair; Arthur could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage like a hammer. He faked to need some more warm water so that Merlin would leave the chambers and hastened to dress up without even drying himself beforehand.

*

As he and Merlin go back to the relationship they used to have, Arthur has to spend more time also with Gwaine, who seems to have the unnerving ability to pop out of nowhere when Merlin is finally free from his daily duties.

Even though he can’t help hating the fact that Gwaine gets to kiss Merlin and to make him blush just like that, Arthur can’t deny that the other boy is fun to be around. He is witty and crazy in a good way and a good fighter. He notices one day when Gwaine is sparring with Leon, a boy whom he has known since they were kids and who’s beginning his apprentice to become a knight. Gwaine’s movements are fluid and precise, his eyes focused.

After the two of them stop and collapse on the grass Arthur moves closer.

“Where did you learn that?”

Gwaine shields his eyes from the sun and looks at him, a questioning look on his face. Arthur figures he has never been able to hide the weird resentment that sparks inside him every time that he sees Merlin and him together.

“My father taught me.”

Gwaine averts his gaze and Arthur turns to look at Leon, who’s wearing a concerned expression. Arthur lets the topic drop.

That evening when he is walking with Leon back to the castle after having dropped Gwaine at his house in the citadel, Arthur learns that Gwaine’s father died fighting for Camelot and his family got nothing as compensation from the king. Arthur goes to bed wondering why Gwaine doesn’t hate him when he would have all the reasons to.

The following day he stills Merlin’s hands as he is adjusting the collar of his vest. Merlin blinks, his eyes huge as he looks down at him. Arthur swallows, mentally scolding himself because he is positively sure he isn’t supposed to feel that warm tug at the bottom of his stomach when he realizes that Merlin has overgrown him.

“Y-you should ask Gwaine what he would think about becoming a knight.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea…”

“I’ve seen him sparring with Leon. He is really good.”

Merlin tilts his head to the side. Arthur knows him talking so freely about Gwaine must seem weird but the thing is that he wants to show him that he is growing up; he wants to demonstrate to himself that he can be mature even when his heart is screaming for him to hold onto Merlin and never let him go most of the time.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him.”

Merlin nods before going back to adjusting Arthur’s vest. His fingers keep leaving warmth in their trail.

///

At first Gwaine refuses but Merlin is patient. He remains by the boy’s side even when he shuts himself off, lost in the memories of a childhood without his father, in thoughts of a king that was never grateful for his sacrifice.

_He didn’t deserve his life, Merlin. He doesn’t deserve mine!_

_But you deserve to shine, Gwaine._

*

Gwaine starts practicing to become a knight; Merlin tries not to think too much of how awkward it is to come to get him after practice and see Arthur there, his eyes hard and concentrated as he goes through the moves one time more.

Gwaine tells him the prince always remains on the field longer than the rest of them; he tells him that he thinks Arthur is going to become a great king, that he has changed and no longer is the arrogant prat he used to be as a kid.

Merlin remains silent, his heart swelling with pride at the thought that Arthur is already loved and respected by those who’ll follow his orders in the future.

///

Months roll by and the end of summer draws closer; come fall delegates from the neighboring kingdoms of Glouvia and Cerin are going to gather in Camelot to finally put an end to negotiations that have been dragging on for years now. Arthur knows that he is going to be stuck in the castle, by his father ‘s side, through all of it; he desperately needs to get out of town for a while, to enjoy the woods and the air and the freedom that is becoming something more and more rare already.

Leon, Elyan and Percy greedily agree to come with him on a hunt that will keep them away from Camelot for three or four days. Being all of them seventeen or sixteen they still aren’t as busy with training as they are going to be a couple of years from now. Of course Arthur invites Gwaine along too, they are mates, they are going to cover each other backs and even though he hates it he knows that Gwaine makes Merlin happy.

They leave Camelot on a clear and warm morning; Arthur tries to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead instead than sneaking glances at Merlin who rides a bit far on the left, talking with Gwaine.

Sometimes Arthur wonders how it is possible to feel like he has lost the biggest occasion of his life when he is yet so young.

He is grateful when Leon and Percy move to the front of their small group to ride by his side.

“I’m going to beat you this time, Percy! I swear I’m going to kill the biggest boar!”

Arthur chuckles.

“What? You don’t believe in my abilities, either?”

Leon grins under his cascade of curls.

“Of course I do, Leon. You’re going to be one of my bravest knights, I know it!”

“Hey, I thought we were all going to be the greatest knights of all times!”

Elyan’s voice rings through the warm and still air and mixes with Gwaine’s laugh.

“Don’t worry Elyan, we will! I’m probably going to be a bit more awesome than the rest of you, though.”

Arthur turns towards him, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Sir Gwaine!”

Gwaine makes a face before laughing some more.

“Blimey! It sounds so formal! I don’t know if I’ll be able to withstand it!”

Arthur grins and lets his gaze slide over to Merlin; he is smiling, his eyes two half-moons. He can’t help wondering what Merlin expects from the future, if he still remembers the time they spent imagining trips in faraway lands, just the two of them facing an unknown world without fears.

They stop a few miles from Camelot, the forest unfurls all around them, but Arthur knows that if there was an opening in the walls of threes they would be able to catch a glimpse of the White Mountains laying in front of them.

As the others set the camp Arthur leaves to find something for their dinner, Leon trails after him and Arthur can’t help feeling warmer at yet another display of the boy’s loyalty. He is quiet, has always been, but he is determined and kind and Arthur always feels as though he could tell him everything. He has always had Merlin for that, though, he isn’t truly used to open up to someone else.

Hunting has always done him good and it isn’t different this time. Blood seems to run faster through him, his body thrumming with energy as he concentrates on the prey and balances his spear. Leon is silent by his side, hand on his own spear, so different from how Merlin is when out on a hunt, fumbling and grinning and babbling. Arthur shakes his head to clear his mind from such thoughts and focuses on the deer nibbling at the grass in the clear opening in front of them.

It only takes one shot.

///

Merlin busies himself with unpacking the few supplies they’ve brought with them. It feels nice to be out with the other guys, they are a bit like family and Merlin is happy that they get to share a bit of time together because he knows all too well that his social status won’t allow him to spend as much time as now with them in the future. As Elyan helps him carrying the wood for the fire and Percy smiles at him saying that he sure has grown stronger over time, Merlin knows that they’ll always remain his friends, though, no matter what.

The sun is starting to descend over the horizon when Arthur and Leon come back. Merlin can’t prevent the small lurch his heart does as he takes in Arthur’s face; his futures are calmer and smoother now that he is free to be Arthur the boy and not Arthur the prince.

He is beautiful.

Merlin blinks and focuses on lighting up the fire.

“Then what they say about my manservant is true, you’re not that useless.”

Merlin lifts his gaze only to find Arthur grinning down at him. He fakes an exaggerated sigh.

“You wound me saying things like that, you know?”

Arthur chuckles and crouches down beside him, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder to keep his leverage.

Merlin’s lungs contract as his magic lurches forward, migrating towards the place where Arthur is touching him. He looks at Arthur and a shiver runs down his spine when he notices how wide his friend’s eyes are.

“Y-you are sure you’re alright? Aren’t you too warm?”

Merlin swallows, he is so worried that he doesn’t even realize his fingers are too close to the flames until a sharp pang of pain crawls through his palm and up his arm. He quickly tears his gaze away from Arthur’s face and pulls his hand to his chest letting out an undignified yelp.

Arthur’s hand is around his instantly.

“Let me take a look.”

Merlin’s breath stutters and breaks in his throat at Arthur’s proximity and at the way his magic seems to climb along his bones trying to find a way to get out and slip over Arthur’s skin.

“It’s…it’s nothing.”

Arthur takes his time to check the damage, he holds Merlin’s hand open, his fingers are gentle and careful.

“Go put some salve on it.”

Merlin nods.

“And you know I’m the one who’s Gaius’ apprentice.”

It’s a weak comeback, he knows it, but he needs to say something that could bring things back to normal in the whirlwind that his mind is.

Arthur simply cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head playfully.

As Gwaine helps him applying the salve and bandages up his palm, Merlin can’t bring himself to look at him in the eyes.

///

After having eaten their dinner they all sit around the fire, Gwaine is talking about a time when he and Elyan ended up locked in a cellar when they had sneaked in to borrow, as he puts it, some wine. Arthur barely pays attention, his eyes focus on the way the flames paint Merlin’s pale skin with shadows.

He hates feeling like this, filled to the brim with a longing he is too scared to analyze.

Gwaine slips an arm around Merlin and pulls him closer. Arthur notices the look on Merlin’s face, he knows he is afraid of what the others could think, but no one says anything, as Arthur has imagined. They’ve all grown up together; it has taught them to see past appearances when it comes to each other. A small smile stretches his lips at the thought that he wouldn’t be friends with Merlin if he hadn’t looked past the façade of bravado and arrogance that he used to wear when he was a kid.

As the night trickles by, Elyan starts yawning and Leon drops his head against Percy’s shoulder, eyelids dropping.

“I guess it’s time to go to bed. Tomorrow we’ll have to get up early.”

Arthur offers to be the first to mount guard; he knows he won’t be able to sleep anyway. He looks as Gwaine takes hold of Merlin’s hand and guides him towards the tent; he tries to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

As soon as he is alone he lets his mind drift. He doesn’t even try to prevent it from trotting back to the thought of Merlin like some loyal dog. Picturing his smile, remembering the stories he used to tell him, reaching through the loneliness that had been his childhood before meeting him, is freeing and at the same time terrifying.

He doesn’t know how much time he has spent looking at the flames growing weaker and weaker when the sound of someone walking snaps him out of his reverie. His hand flies to the hilt of his sword, but his fingers relax quickly as he spots Merlin.

“I thought you were asleep.”

Merlin shakes his head before closing the distance between them and sitting down beside him. Silence falls between them and Arthur wants nothing more than breaking it. Merlin shifts on the log they’re sitting on and their thighs brush sending warmth rippling through the surface of Arthur’s skin.

He shouldn’t feel like this. He does, though.

“You…do you ever think that things have changed between us?”

Arthur turns to look at Merlin and as soon as he does he knows that he has made a mistake because he won’t be able to look away.

There are so many things he could say- _of course not, yes I’m sorry for that, yes things have changed because I don’t know what I feel for you anymore_.

“I do.”

It’s just a whisper and it’s not enough, but he doesn’t feel brave enough to say anything else.

Merlin lowers his gaze and panic shoots through Arthur at the thought that he might have said the wrong thing.

“Me too…I…I know it’s stupid because we’re together all the time, but I miss you sometimes.”

Arthur clenches and unclenches his hands on his knees, just to give his body a purpose while his heart is trying to fly apart.

Lifting his hand and resting it over Merlin’s feels like the hardest thing he has ever done. It’s worth it when Merlin looks at him, his eyes wide and beautiful and fuck he isn’t supposed to think these things about his best friend, but he can’t help it.

Merlin’s skin keeps radiating warmth and it makes something stutter inside of him.

“Arthur…”

Merlin’s face is all of sudden closer to his, closing off all the rest, not that he would want to look somewhere else.

He raises his hand to cup Merlin’s face, letting his fingers trace the lines of his cheekbone. He searches Merlin’s eyes, looking for a sign that this is alright, even though he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t allow himself to. Merlin’s eyes are clear and filled with the affection Arthur has always seen in them since that winter day Merlin found him crying in an abandoned room.

The moment his lips touch Merlin’s his senses seem to shut down. There’s only warmth and the dry softness of his best friend’s lips.

It scares him to realize that this is exactly what he has always wanted, the longing always there, at the back of his mind.

///

The way his magic soars almost makes his bones tremble. It’s everywhere, a hot undercurrent enveloping him. For once Merlin can’t bring himself to care about containing it. All he can think about right now are Arthur’s lips, his hands, his warm breath.

He parts his lips and the moment his tongue shyly brushes against Arthur’s for the first time he is sure he has never felt something like this before. It sure isn’t his first kiss, but it is completely new nonetheless. It feels so incredibly right, like the fact that the moon is in the sky at night. A rush of happiness runs through him as Arthur rests his hands on his waist and pulls him closer.

When his lungs start burning because of the lack of air, Merlin tries to resist. He doesn’t want this moment to end; everything is perfect and safe right now, no one can touch them here, they can’t doubt themselves now that they are in the circle of each other’s arms.

Eventually, Arthur starts to pull back, though, and Merlin can’t do anything about it. He isn’t proud of the whimper that escapes his lips, but he can’t help it.

They look at each other; Arthur’s lips are slightly parted, his pupils wide. Merlin is sure that if he tries to hold his breath longer his lungs are going to burst. He sees the instant something shifts inside of Arthur, the exact moment when he decides he has to guard himself. It’s in the way his lips form a thin line and a small crease appears on his forehead.

He wants to say something, to assure him that nothing between them is going to change, but it would mean explaining that things cannot change because he has been thinking about what kissing his first friend would be like for months, because what seeing Arthur’s smile sets into motion inside of him has always been something special.

Arthur’s voice sounds louder in the stillness of the night air.

“Sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”

Merlin’s throat is dry, he rests his left hand on top of  Arthur’s right one. His magic retreats, wounded, as Arthur slips it away.

“Arthur…”

He shakes his head and Merlin knows that whatever he could say it wouldn’t reach his best friend’s ears, not now, when all of his defenses are up.

Arthur raises to his feet; Merlin keeps his eyes focused on his hands clenched in fists by his sides, he doesn’t dare looking into Arthur’s eyes.

“Just forget that it has happened, _please_.”

It’s that last small word, whispered like a secret, like a prayer that gets to Merlin the most. He doesn’t say anything, simply stands up and walks towards the tent. His very bones feel heavier.

*

The following day he wakes up with Gwaine’s arm around his waist, warm and solid. Something twists in Merlin’s stomach and he feels sick. Ghosts of Arthur’s lips and words have hunted him in his dreams and still linger.

This is not as he has imagined his first kiss with Arthur would be. He wills himself not to cry; it doesn’t prevent his magic from buckling behind his sternum and his breath from getting lost in his lungs for an instant.

He has never realized how much he has wanted it, to kiss Arthur, to see himself reflected in the azure of his eyes. He curls up on himself and squeezes his eyes shut, knowing all too well that it won’t fix what has happened.

When Gwaine wakes up and presses a kiss to his cheek, Merlin tries hard to smile. If it doesn’t reach his eyes, the other boy doesn’t seem to notice. Merlin can’t help thinking that Arthur would have noticed.

*

Arthur doesn’t speak much to him during the day. At night he is the first one to mount guard again. Merlin waits for Gwaine to fall asleep and then spends hours simply looking at Arthur sitting in front of the fire from the tent’s entrance.

*

Back in Camelot Arthur seems to relax a bit around him, but he still stiffens when Merlin helps him dress or undress. Merlin’s list of duties gets longer and he wonders if that’s Arthur’s way to keep himself guarded.

He wishes he knew how to guard his own heart, because every time he meets Arthur’s gaze it’s as though something is gripping at it.

*

The memory of that night slowly begins to fade as weeks pass by. Arthur is busy with his father in the council room most of the time; delegates from a few neighbouring kingdoms have arrived and they’re going to remain in Camelot until the end of December. There are people everywhere and more often than not Merlin has to help in the kitchens and around the castle.

Gwaine and the other boys have started their official training. Merlin still has to get used to them wearing Camelot’s red cloaks.

It’s the end of Novemeber when Gwaine touches him for the first time. Merlin is nervous but Gwaine is careful and gentle. His fingers trail over Merlin’s skin almost reverently as he whispers words of endearment and encouragement in his ear. In those moments, with Gwaine all around him finally Merlin feels as though he can breathe again. It doesn’t last long, though. All it takes is for Arthur to smile at him when Merlin pours him a glass of water at a banquet the following day.

*

As for his magic it has slowly become a habit to keep it hidden; it doesn’t weight down on him as much as it did at the beginning.

The first time he has to use it to save Arthur’s life with Arthur right there and not miles away it’s a shock, though. As he sees the bandit running towards the prince his magic simply explodes inside of him, it tries to climb out and there’s only one thought shining at the centre of his mind like a guiding star: _protect!_

Gwaine and the others are all focused on fighting the bandits back and Merlin knows that he has to act right now. It worms his way out from the centre of his chest along his arms to the tips of his fingers. It collides with the bandit and sends him flying and crashing against a tree. Arthur twirls around after having forced to the ground the man he was fighting with. Merlin looks as he blinks, confusion written on his features.

He quickly lowers his gaze to the ground as Arthur turns around. He wishes he could tell Arthur that it was his doing, that he will always be ready to be there for him, it doesn’t matter how scared he might be.

He can’t; he probably never will.

On the way back to Camelot, Merlin wonders how it would be like to live in a different world, where the magic running in his veins, mixed with his blood, wouldn’t be something to fear and to curse, when he could take Arthur’s hand and promise him forever even though Arthur was a future king and he was a sorcerer.

*

The first snow has started to fall on Camelot when he and Arthur kiss for the second time. It’s not something planned, indeed, from that first time in the woods, Merlin has tried with all his might to push the memory of the pressure of Arthur’s lips against his own away. Sometimes his dreams are filled with strong hands and azure eyes, but there’s nothing Merlin can actually do about it.

Uther has asked for Arthur, but the prince is nowhere to be found. Merlin, though, knows exactly where he might be. The North tower has been abandoned from before Merlin and Arthur were even born, some of the older maids say that it was where the court sorcerer’s quarters were at a time when magic was accepted, before Uther’s Great Purge had fallen over the land.

They discovered it  on a rainy afternoon while they were playing explorers in the dismissed wings of the castle. The floor was covered in dust, an old bed was pushed in a corner and a couple of darkened tapestries were hung on the walls. To them it was the most precious place on Earth, a place only for them, when they could come and plan their future campaigns or simply read old books without being interrupted by obnoxious maids or pages.

The door is slightly ajar when Merlin reaches the landing. As he walks closer he catches a glimpse of Arthur’s blond hair; he is standing by the window, the milky light sliding over his features.

“I know that you’re there, Merlin.”

Merlin blinks before pushing the door and entering the room.

“How the hell did you know that?”

Arthur turns, a small smile on his lips.

“I was trained for that, remember?”

Merlin can sense that there’s something definitely off with Arthur; it rolls out of him in waves and makes Merlin’s magic hitch with the desire to reach out and envelope him.

“Is…is there something wrong, Arthur?”

For a second Arthur looks taken aback but then shakes his head with a small humorless laugh.

“I should have figured. It’s impossible for me to keep something hidden when it comes to you.”

Merlin doesn’t know if he is supposed to feel happy or sad about that. He doesn’t want Arthur to feel uncomfortable around him; he couldn’t stand Arthur pulling away from him.

He is about to say he is sorry, even though that doesn’t make much sense, when Arthur’s hand lands on his shoulder, warm and solid, squeezing gently. His magic beats underneath his skin, as it happens every time that Arthur touches him.

“It’s…nothing, Merlin, really. Just…sometimes things get a bit too much and…”

Arthur looks at him and Merlin knows that this has also to do with the two of them. With what they can’t let happen because their friendship has been the firmer constant for the both of them over the years. He can see it in Arthur’s eyes, the same fear and worry that he knows are lurking in his own eyes.

But there’s nothing they can do about it, not now, maybe not ever. Still, there’s something that Merlin knows he can do, to bring peace to Arthur and to his own conflicted heart even though it’s only for a few seconds.

Arthur’s lips slot perfectly with his own, exactly as he remembers, exactly as that first time. Arthur’s hands are firm as they push against his shoulder blades, pulling him closer. A moan rolls over Merlin’s tongue as he finds himself pressed against Arthur.

Arthur’s tongue dances with his own, and Merlin wishes he could tell Arthur that he loves him, right now, right here, in their own special place. But he knows all too well that he has a secret and a friendship to protect. He simply allows himself to melt a bit under Arthur’s touch, trying to pour everything that he won’t be able to say out loud in this stolen kiss.

This time when they break apart Arthur doesn’t walk away; he buries his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck and stands there in silence as the snow keeps falling outside.

///

From that afternoon in the tower, Arthur knows that it’s useless to fight the longing, the need simmering inside of him. There’s no way he can deny how much he wants to be closer to Merlin, to feel him like that. He doesn’t know why, he is scared to learn why, so he tries not to think too much about it.

What he knows is that in those stolen moments, with Merlin all around him, he feels safe as he has never been, he feels complete. And even though he knows they shouldn’t, because they can’t do this to Gwaine, because nothing could ever come out of it when his father wants a good prince and a heir, he can’t bring himself to let go.

*

The first time Merlin touches him is the night he comes back from a mission at the Mercian border in late February.

Dirt and blood are smeared on his skin and he feels uncomfortable in his own skin. When Merlin walks in the chambers and sees him his eyes grow wide and Arthur shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

He knows Merlin doesn’t like blood and doesn’t like the idea of him killing people. He still remembers their first conversation on the topic when they were barely eleven.

_“You can’t do what your father does, Arthur!”_

_“But that’s what a king has to do!”_

_“You are going to be the best king ever existed and you’re not going to kill people!”_

So many times he has wished that Merlin was right, that he could become that kind of king, but reality so far has proven to be different from those dreams of an eleven years old kid with big blue eyes.

Before he has a chance to speak, Merlin is standing right in front of him, his eyes concerned and his fingers light as butterflies on his cheeks, his neck, checking for wounds.

“Are you alright, Arthur? Did they hit you?”

Arthur opens and closes his mouth. He shakes his head and something warm sloshes around inside of him at the sight of the huge smile that Merlin flashes in his direction.

All the air leaves his lungs when Merlin slips his arms around his neck and hugs him tight.

“Thank God, I was so worried!”

It’s as though something has been unlocked inside of him and Arthur simply has to kiss Merlin. He cups his face and keeps him close as he traces his tongue along his lower lip. Merlin trembles against him and from then on is a whirlwind of pieces of armor removed and hands and tongues.

Arthur gasps as the back of his knees hit the basin that Merlin had previously filled with hot water. He brings Merlin with him as he falls. Water sloshes over the edge of the basin, but he couldn’t care less. All that matters are the small sounds that Merlin is making and the way his pale skin seems to shine in the half light.

When Merlin’s hand closes around him Arthur is positively sure that he is going to fly apart. It’s so different from the times he has touched himself; it’s sharper and real and it only takes moments before he is right on the edge, his fingers clumsily closing around Merlin because he _needs_ to bring Merlin with him.

They gasp each other’s names in their mouths. Arthur briefly wonders if their hearts are beating following the same rhythm.

*

After that they go back to normal; Merlin has Gwaine and Arthur has his training and the gentle smiles that Morgana’s maid, Gwen, flashes at him when they pass each other in the corridors.

They aren’t Merlin’s smiles, but Arthur knows he has to accept that there are certain things that he will never be able to get. That’s what growing up is also about right? He wishes it wasn’t so hard, though.

///

Merlin spends the following days feeling as though his magic is rioting inside of him. When he came, Arthur’s fingers wrapped around him, his magic had all but clawed at his ribcage, strong and fierce and crazy with the need to crawl under Arthur’s skin. And even now that a few days have passed, it still keeps twirling nervously, setting his nerves on fire every time that he and Arthur are too close.

He is helping Gaius grinding some dry herbs in the workshop when he finally musters enough courage to ask.

“Gaius…”

“Yes, my boy?”

It always makes Merlin smile the fact that Gaius still calls him like that.

“I…can I ask you a question about…magic?”

He wishes he could be more confident, but the thing is that he still feels as though he knows too little about the force living inside of him. Gaius turns and quirks a white eyebrow.

“Of course. What do you need to know?”

“I…sometimes when I touch Arthur…my magic…it shifts and it’s as though it is trying to break free or something.”

Gaius tilts his head to the side, a worried expression on his features.

“Does it ever happen when you touch someone else?”

Merlin was somehow expecting this question but it doesn’t mean he is less confused or scared about it.

“It only happened with you once.”

The silence settles heavy over the working table. Gaius’ sigh seems ten thousand times louder as it cuts through it.

“This…this is a long story, Merlin. One you don’t have to share with anyone.”

Merlin swallows around the lump in his throat; he has enough secrets to hide and he isn’t sure he could stand another one pressing sharp against the walls of his heart, but he knows he needs to understand what his magic answers to in order to be able to control it better. Because even though he daydreams about showing it to Arthur; there’s no way he can let that happen.

“Alright, I won’t tell.”

Gaius nods once before taking a deep breath.

“Come and sit here, my boy.”

*

Merlin stands up a  hour later, his legs feel too weak to keep him up and his thoughts are clashing against each other as swords.

“I…I think I need a moment to think.”

The look in Gaius’ eyes is gentle and soft.

“Of course, my boy. This might need time to process.”

Laying on his bed, Merlin closes his eyes. He can hear the magic singing softly in a deep recess of his being, the same magic that lies hidden inside of Arthur, the same magic that allowed Arthur to be born.

The weight of the truth settles heavy on his ribcage threatening to crush it.

In this moment he hates Uther more than he has ever done and loves Arthur so much that he is scared by the sheer force of it.

*

When he sees Arthur the following morning, Merlin does his best to avoid looking at him straight in the eyes. He knows Arthur has noticed by the way he sits a bit straighter in his chair, his jaw set.

He wishes he knew how to deal with this better, but no one has ever taught him what protecting the person you love was like.

///

The moment Arthur realizes Merlin is pulling away from him once more, he knows he has to make a clear decision, or he is fairly certain that his heart is going to be shattered by the constant ebb and flow of the twisted, painfully beautiful thing that was born between the two of them.

*

Merlin is getting his bed ready for the night, when Arthur takes a deep breath, hoping that his stupid heart isn’t going to betray him this time too.

“Merlin…”

Merlin turns, a smile on his lips. Arthur curses whoever is up there and has made Merlin the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

“Yes, Arthur?”

Arthur lowers his gaze on the surface of his desk, his hands stark white against the wood.

“I’m…I think I might like Gwen.”

He lifts his gaze just in time to see Merlin blink before he puts his smile back in place.

“Oh, that’s…that’s great, Arthur. She is really sweet. She would be perfect for you.”

Arthur nods, wishing his hands could stop trembling slightly.

“She is. And I know she is a servant , but hopefully things will change when I’m king.”

He wishes he could tell Merlin that he chose him, that when he is king, they would be able to stand proudly by each other sides, but Arthur knows he is not brave enough to do that. It would be so much more than challenging social hierarchy and if something were to go wrong, it would shatter the only friendship he has ever had. He is sure he wouldn’t survive that.

Merlin lowers his gaze.

“I am sure they will.”

When Merlin closes the door behind his back, Arthur buries his head in his hands, his heart heavy with the desire to chase after Merlin and hold onto him until the end of time.

*

Morgana tells him that he should stand up and fight for his own heart. Arthur simply shakes his head and squeezes her hands a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, because he knows that she means it and he is simply grateful that she is there, that she knows, so that she can help him one day when he’ll have to piece every shred of his heart back together.

///

Merlin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help tears that form in his eyes. He knows Arthur has the right to be happy, to have a normal relationship where things aren’t so difficult and dangerous, where there isn’t too much on the line. Moreover,  it isn’t as though he has left Gwaine to be with Arthur, he has known all along that this moment would have arrived. Just…just now it’s real and it cuts through him like a knife.

That night, as Gwaine holds him close, his breath warm on his skin and his fingers gentle inside of him, Merlin hopes that the small sob that escapes him at the thought of Arthur with someone else will go unnoticed.

5 _._

_Hold on, hold on, let me get the words out before I burst_

_There's no truth at all, poking at the giant eyes of ancient gods_

Months slip by, one after the other as spring and then summer roll over the land. Merlin knows he is supposed to feel better with time, but that’s not the case.

He sees them, Arthur and Gwen, smiling at each other during banquets, sitting side by side in the inner court, the light sliding over Gwen’s mahogany hair. Something dark and cold twist at the bottom of his stomach. Merlin tries to push it back down every single time because this is not the man his mother wants him to become, this is not the man he wants to be.

But then again the man he wants to be is one who can be brave and honest enough to set Gwaine free, to tell his best friend that he has magic, to tell that same best friend that he is in love with him.

Every time he swallows the jealousy down along with his regrets.

*

The first time Gwaine tells him that he loves him it’s a quiet night at the beginning of the fall. They are in Gwaine’s room, all of the new knights who turned eighteen got one after they had finished their apprenticeship.

Gwaine’s chest rises and falls softly underneath him and Merlin fights to bring those three words out of the place where he has tucked them waiting to tell them to a person who could never hear them.

They don’t come, so he simply presses his lips to Gwaine’s smooth skin right over his heart. It’s a silent apology but Merlin knows that it’s not even remotely enough.

*

He talks less to Arthur lately. It’s painful to keep the distance after years spent too close to each other, at the point that all boundaries blurred in a jumbled mess, but it’s the only way Merlin can trust to keep himself under control and to try to preserve Arthur’s stability too. Because Arthur has never ceased to be his main concern, the one he would gladly die for, the one he keeps protecting over and over from shadowy corners where no one can see his magic shine.

That’s why he is surprised when he walks past Arthur in the silent corridor near the room where he found him that afternoon so many years ago and the prince grabs his wrist, his eyes wide and pleading for him not to run away, to just stay. He nods and lets Arthur drag him into the room.

He watches as Arthur walks up to the old bed after having released his hand and sits down not caring about the dust piled upon the covers. He wants to say Arthur’s name but right now it feels like too much.

“It’s hard, you know?”

Merlin lifts his gaze and his eyes find Arthur’s deep ones. He seems older and more tired than Merlin has ever seen him.

In that moment he knows exactly what Arthur means. The words stumble past his lips and get lost in the chilliness of the room.

“I know.”

_I miss you too. I wish things could be different. Do you really think we can’t learn to make this work? Why can’t we be real?_

They look at each other in silence until Arthur drops his gaze and rises to his feet once again. The back of their hands brush as he walks past Merlin and out of the door. Merlin’s magic whines softly from where it is curled like a wounded animal around his heart.

*

“Are you happy?”

Merlin blinks and lifts his gaze from Arthur’s armor. Arthur’s eyes seem to shine in the half light of the armory. The other knights are still finishing their training and there’s only the two of them in the room, the smell of leather and polisher twirling around them.

Merlin hopes his voice doesn’t tremble too much when he answers.

“I am.”

Arthur passes a hand through his hair, plastered to his forehead after the training.

“Sometimes I think that I cannot be happy unless…”

“Don’t say that.”

Merlin knows his tone was probably harsher than he intended, but he isn’t sure he would be able to stitch himself back together if he listens to what Arthur has to say.

Arthur shakes his head, a small and sad smile on his lips.

“You don’t even want to hear it, Merlin?”

“No. Maybe I want to hear it too much.”

Arthur’s expression softens and something slams heavily against Merlin’s chest, because right now Arthur looks exactly like the boy who talked to him about a mother he had never met, the boy who promised him they would go to Ealdor together one day.

He lowers his gaze to his hands. He doesn’t lift his gaze when Arthur walks towards him. When Arthur’s lips press gently against his forehead. Merlin simply closes his eyes and clenches his hands into trembling fists.

When a soft thud echoes through the armory, he doesn’t give it any importance, he can’t when Arthur is so close that his magic sings.

*

On a sunny, chilly afternoon a few days later, Merlin is alone in the workshop, intent on bottling the salve he and Gaius prepared the previous night when the door opens and closes behind him. He doesn’t need to turn to know that it’s Gwaine, he would recognize his scent everywhere.

“Hey.”

Gwaine doesn’t answer and that’s when Merlin turns. The knight is standing there, biting his lower lip, his eyes hooded and dark.

“Is something wrong?”

“You never said it back to me.”

For an instant Merlin truly doesn’t understand what Gwaine is saying but then realization grips him hard. He doesn’t know what to answer to that.

“You didn’t say it back; I should have seen why.”

Merlin’s throat feels too tight and dry; Gwaine can’t possibly know about what Arthur and he have done, right?

“W-What do you mean?”

Gwaine lifts his gaze and looks straight at him. To see the pain and the longing on his beautiful features breaks something inside of Merlin. He has never wanted to hurt anyone and yet he has done just so, and to the one person who has always been by his side, loyal and caring.

“You can’t love me back, Merlin. Isn’t that the problem?”

Merlin opens and closes his mouth before taking a deep breath. His lungs seem too small to work properly.

“I’m sorry, Gwaine. I am truly sorry.”

And he isn’t sure for what he is apologizing, if it is because he can’t love him back or because he betrayed him.

Gwaine passes a hand through his hair.

“The worst part is that I know that you are. Whom you love is not something you chose.”

“Gwaine…”

The knight lifts his hand and Merlin swallows back another apology.

“Did you ever tell him?”

Merlin’s heart is beating like a drum, slamming against his bones so hard that Merlin wouldn’t be surprised if they broke.

“Whom?”

“Arthur…I saw the two of you in the armory the other day. So, did you at least tell him?”

Merlin shakes his head, because it’s the truth, he has never told Arthur what he feels.

Gwaine’s voice is slightly broken at the edges when he speaks again.

“Did you two…”

Merlin focuses his gaze on the wooden floor and nods. The worst thing is that even though he feels horrible for having done this to Gwaine, he knows that he would do the same thing if he had the possibility to go back in time. Arthur is…Arthur is _everything_ and Merlin hates himself for not having realized before now that there couldn’t be space for anyone else. Even if he can’t have Arthur, the other man will always take up all the space inside his stupid, little heart.

“I am so sorry, Gwaine. I…there can’t  be anything between me and him, but I shouldn’t have done this to you.”

Tears are sliding down his cheeks when he finally manages to lift his gaze. Gwaine is looking at him, tears in his own eyes, a small sad smile on his face.

“I guess that’s it, then. I…I think I need a bit of time to…”

Merlin nods, wishing he could reach out and hug Gwaine but knowing all too well that he isn’t allowed to do it anymore.

“Of course. Just…for all that it’s worth know that I am sorry. You deserve someone who loves you and not someone as horrible as me.”

Gwaine shakes his head.

“I can’t forgive you right now, Merlin. You know that…but know that you’re not horrible at all. If anything you’re too bright to be true.”

Gwaine turns and closes the door behind his back. Merlin curls on himself, sobs making him tremble. That’s what he gets for having denied what lives and breathes inside of him for so long.

*

In front of Arthur and of the other knights, he tries hard not to seem too broken. Gwaine never stands too close to him and tries not to speak to him unless it’s strictly necessary, but at least he isn’t insulting him in front of everyone. But then again that isn’t something that someone as pure and honest as Gwaine would do.

If Arthur notices that something is different he doesn’t say anything and Merlin doesn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed about it.

///

Arthur is reading some papers at his desk when someone knocks on the door. His stomach twists at the thought that it might be Merlin. He has been sadder lately, his shoulders always slumped, his eyes less bright than they usually are. It makes him worry.

“Come on in.”

His heart plummets to the bottom of his ribcage as the one who enters the room is Gwaine. The knight bows slightly, his features set in a frown. Arthur tilts his head to the side.

“Is there something wrong, Gwaine?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Arthur motions for him to sit down and waits for the other man to do so before he speaks again.

“You can talk to me about anything.”

“It’s about Merlin.”

Arthur hopes Gwaine hasn’t noticed the way his breath just got stuck in his lungs.

“What about him?”

“We are no longer together.”

Something fresh seems to slide over Arthur’s skin, a sweet relief he almost instantly feels guilty of.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Gwaine.”

“And I know about the two of you.”

Arthur is positively sure that his blood has frozen.

“Gwaine, I…”

“Arthur, I truly don’t want to hear it. I just came because I knew that Merlin wouldn’t tell you, but I thought you needed to know it. And even though I might not be in a position to ask such a thing after what you two have done…I still care about him, I always will, so don’t break him. Don’t you dare break him.”

Arthur nods and looks numbly as Gwaine stands, bows and exits the room.

*

That night when Gwen comes to wish him a goodnight he holds onto her a bit tighter than usual, wishing that her warmth could chase away the coldness that has settled into his bones at the thought that Merlin is free now. Only he probably won’t ever be free to mend Merlin’s heart or his own.

*

Arthur doesn’t tell Merlin that he knows. He allows himself to tug a very surprised Merlin in a hug a few days later, though. Merlin stiffens in his arms but Arthur holds him until the other man relaxes. 

He gently sways them on the spot, before he lets go, his heart beating too hard and his cheeks feeling hotter.

Merlin doesn’t say anything, he simply flashes him a small smile that makes Arthur’s heart melt just so.

*

The news of Mercian troops mulling too close to the Eastern borders doesn’t come as a surprise. After all the relationship between the two kingdoms started to deteriorate months ago.

Arthur spends hours holed up in the council’s room with his father and his advisors, trying to figure out which course of action would be better. They decide to try a diplomatic contact at first. When the messenger they sent comes back battered and with the news that the Mercian army has already reached the Darkling Woods, they all know that they don’t have a choice anymore.

This is the first time since Arthur was born, that Camelot is directly under attack and there’s no way he can deny how terrified he is about it. It’s something that has started to grow inside of him – only recently this love for his people, this need to protect them no matter what.

Arthur knows all too well that this is his opportunity to prove that he is the prince they have wanted him to become. One who would sacrifice his life for them, to bring them happiness and safety.  He wonders if Merlin would be proud of him.

But there’s no time to reach out for him. Hours are spent training and studying plans of the city, trying to understand which spots are more vulnerable and where it’s more likely that the Mercian soldiers will hit. Troops have been deployed in the plain surrounding the city; some of the knights slept there the night before.

There’s a constant thrumming inside Arthur. He doesn’t know if it’s the worry, the excitement or the fact that this is what his destiny is supposed to look like.

*

When it’s announced that the Mercian army will be there the following day at dawn, something heavy closes around Arthur’s heart. He knows that things could go wrong, that the majority of his knights have just come out of apprenticeship. Above all he knows that he has too much to lose if the Mercians were to win. He isn’t surprised when the thought that hurts him the most is that he could lose Merlin.

///

Outside it’s dark and a pale moon shines over an almost deserted town when Merlin stands in front of Arthur’s chambers. A small blade of light spills from underneath the closed door and he shakes his head, because it’s just like Arthur to remain awake, probably vibrating with energy, when instead he needs to rest and prepare himself.

He takes a deep breath and knocks. The sound rings too high in his own ears. Without waiting to hear an answer he pushes the door open and looks inside. Arthur is sitting at his desk, his back to the door. Sometimes Merlin wishes his magic could help him read Arthur’s mind, to always have the right words to say, the right gestures to sooth.

“I hoped you’d come.”

Arthur’s voice slides over him as warm water, slips under his skin and caresses his bones.

“You know that I could never leave you alone before a battle.”

Arthur chuckles, a small and frail sound.

“I know. Remember that time when you ran in the courtyard and the guards wouldn’t let you pass?”

Merlin passes a hand through his hair. Everything had been so much easier back then.

“Yes, I remember.”

Arthur finally turns, his eyes alight with something Merlin cannot place. It makes him think that there’s so much inside of Arthur, shining right under the surface of his skin. He would gladly get lost inside of him.

“Would you…would you remain here tonight, Merlin?”

And there’s so much pressing need behind those words, too much unknown laying ahead of them for Merlin to refuse. Indeed he doesn’t know if he could ever be able to deny something to Arthur. He nods and a small, watery smile stretches Arthur’s lips.

They’re careful, light touches and gentle kisses, trying not to break each other more than they already have. Arthur’s hands run over Merlin’s ribs and his magic follows them; it’s different from when Gwaine used to touch him. It leaves Merlin trembling, his breath stuttering in his lungs as he looks up at Arthur. The look of devotion on Arthur’s face makes his heart quiver. Right in this moment, with the warmth of Arthur’s naked body covering him, Merlin knows that he is completely in love with his prince. He closes his eyes and buries his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck as Arthur presses gentle kisses to the shell of his ear.

“Merlin, I need…”

Merlin nods, there’s no need for words between them, not now.

“I’ve never done this, though…”

The worried expression on Arthur’s features makes him feel warm all over. If possible his heart beats even faster, reveling in Arthur’s affection.

“I’ll guide you.”

Arthur’s hand is trembling in his own as Merlin pours ointment on his fingers and guides them to his entrance. As Arthur carefully pushes a first finger inside Merlin is sure that something has just liquefied inside of him and is sloshing around his organs, mixing with his magic.

When Arthur has stretched him open, Merlin halts the movements of his hand, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I should turn over. It’s going to be easier.”

Arthur nods and Merlin has barely the time to turn on his hands and knees before Arthur is encircling him with his arms. Merlin closes his eyes against the overwhelming sensation that comes from being held like this by him. A sensation he has only dreamt of so far, precious and unattainable. But now it’s real and it takes Merlin’s breath away.

The moment Arthur starts to press in, everything fades around Merlin, there’s only Arthur’s breath caressing his ear and the feeling of being filled. His magic thrashes around, confused as a lost bird, before it settles in a hot knot right behind Merlin’s sternum.

“A-Arthur…”

Arthur presses a kiss to the side of his neck as he pushes himself all the way in. It burns and it’s perfect. When Arthur finally starts to move, Merlin can’t prevent the low moan that rolls up his throat and past his lips. Arthur’s arms squeeze him tighter as Arthur starts moving faster.

Merlin can hear nothing except the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of their bodies slapping together. It should be obscene; it’s beautiful instead.

 “Why can’t you be mine, Merlin?”

Arthur’s voice is broken as the moan that follows his words.

Merlin grips the sheets tighter, as though it could help him to keep himself together. His lungs are on fire and his whole body is trembling as Arthur moves inside of him.

“I am yours, Arthur. I will always be, no matter what.”

Arthur presses a wet kiss between his shoulder blades as he covers him, skin against skin, warm pants against his nape.

“I love you.”

Merlin comes with a cry, his eyes filled with tears. Arthur’s own tears falling on the bare skin of his shoulder.

As they lie in Arthur’s bed, waiting for the dawn to come and for the battle to begin, Merlin lets his fingers trace unknown letters on Arthur’s damp skin.

“I love you too. My heart is in your hands. It has always been.”

Arthur presses a gentle kiss to the point where his jaw meets his neck.

“I’ll never let go of it.”

In that moment, their legs tangled together and their feelings curled between them, it doesn’t feel like a promise, it feels like the truth.

*

Merlin wakes up at the sound of sheets rustling. The room is immersed in the pale, weak light of dawn. He lets his arm reach out and his fingers brush against Arthur’s wrist.

“I guess it’s time, then?”

Arthur simply leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead.

*

“There’s no way I am going to remain here at the castle, Arthur!”

“Merlin, this is an order!”

“I’m not going to stay behind a wall why you are risking your life, Arthur! I want to fight by your side!”

Arthur looks at him and Merlin holds his gaze, his magic thumping underneath his skin.

“I…Alright, Merlin. But, please, don’t let them kill you. I couldn’t…”

Merlin reaches up, cupping Arthur’s cheek, his thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone.

“I won’t. Don’t worry.”

*

The air is thick with tension and it seems to weigh down on all of them.  Merlin balls his hands into fists at his sides. He lets his gaze slide over the knights standing by his side, Percy, Elyan, Leon. Gwaine’s gaze meets his own and Merlin is afraid of what he might find in those hazel eyes. But Gwaine nods in his direction, a small, precious smile on his lips. Merlin smiles back, his heart slightly lighter.

Then he turns towards Arthur, who is standing beside the king, as that morning so many years ago. Merlin wishes he could reach out and take his hand. Instead, he quietly lets his magic slip past the legs of the knights until it curls gently around Arthur’s ankles. Not enough for him to be fully conscious of it but enough to sooth his nerves.

It’s the least Merlin can do.

*

Merlin has been on missions with Arthur over the years, but he has never found himself in the middle of a battle. He has never experienced the buzzing anxiety that comes with waiting for everything to start, the way the first touch of sword against sword rings sharp through the heaviness of the air.

The sword is heavy in his hands but Merlin does his best to parry the blows that keep coming. People start falling all around, knights with their faces smeared with blood and screams blossom like painful flowers. Merlin swallows the lump in his throat and keeps trying to do his best. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gwaine and Leon, moving fast and with precision, striking and retreating over and over again.

He can’t spot Arthur, though. Memories of that first campaign when he had been able to feel Arthur’s pain, but hadn’t been there by his side come rushing back. He stumbles slightly on his legs as he shields himself from a blow. He _needs_ to find Arthur. Merlin has long ago offered his magic to him, in the silence of nights spent in his room, imagining a future made of fairness and bravery, and he has to protect Arthur, now more than ever.

When Merlin finally spots him something freezes inside of him and for an instant the blood and the noise surrounding him don’t exist anymore.

Arthur is crouching on the ground, holding his father’s lifeless body, rocking softly back and forth. Merlin blinks, everything seems so surreal, from the paleness of Uther’s face to the tears streaming down Arthur’s dirty cheeks.

The only thing he is sure of is that he needs to make Arthur stand and get away from there before Mercian soldiers spot him with his guard down. He moves quickly, darting through the corps scattered on the ground until he reaches Arthur and grabs his shoulder.

“Arthur!”

Arthur looks up at him, his eyes watery and unfocused.

“You’ve to let go, Arthur.”

He shakes his head and  Merlin almost growls in frustration.

“Arthur, _please_.”

Before Arthur has the chance to stand Merlin spots a soldier running towards them, his sword glinting in the sharp light.

There’s no time to think, no time to reason. There’s only Arthur and the need to save him, to make sure that he is safe, because he is all this kingdom needs, because he is the keeper of his heart.

He barely knows what he is doing when he stutters out words which he has read in one of Gaius’ old books. The magic shakes his way out of him, rattles his bones with its force. He opens his palms, feeling an unbelievable heat erupt inside his chest, sliding down his arms and out of his fingers.

The soldier goes flying backwards, hitting the ground hard, his bones out of place. Merlin stands there, panting and trembling, feeling the weight of Arthur’s gaze on him but not feeling brave enough to turn.

“Merlin…”

Arthur’s voice is low and hard, but before Merlin has any chance of answering other soldiers are coming, running and screaming and there’s no time. Arthur quickly steps in front of him, sword back in his hand. Merlin stumbles backwards and this time doesn’t hesitate to let his magic free. It’s almost exhilarating to be able to do it under the light of the sun.

There’s nothing else he can lose right now.

6.

_Your love is life piled tight and high set against the sky_

_That seems to balance on its own_

After hours, the battle is over, the last Mercian soldiers have surrendered or run away. The grass is slick with blood and Merlin feels so weak he is surprised he still manages to stand. He can feel the weight of Arthur’s gaze on him, as that of Gwaine’s, Leon’s and all the other knights. They all saw him, they all know now.

It leaves Merlin torn between relief and fear; he feels as though he is floating not knowing where he is going to land. He simply stands there, trying to focus on breathing instead of on the knights looking right at him or Arthur. Arthur who hasn’t spoken to him yet.

His voice rings through the air heavy with the smell of blood and victory.

“Let’s head back.”

Merlin lifts his gaze only to find that Arthur isn’t looking at him at all; he is looking at Uther’s body, pale and still on the dirty grass. Leon and Percy move to pick up the body. Gwaine is the only one who looks at him and a small strained smile attempts to stretch his lips when their gazes meet.

As they walk back towards the castle, Merlin summons up all his courage and speeds his pace up to walk beside Arthur.

“A-Arthur…”

Arthur doesn’t look at him when he answers, his eyes trained on the white walls of the castle shining in the dimming light in front of them.

“Not now, Merlin.”

It hurts; it’s like freeing someone from a chain and forcing him to remain there anyway, rooted to the spot. But it’s not only that; Merlin sees how in pain Arthur is, how much he would need someone who could hold him, someone who has spent almost all of his life with. It hurts to see that he isn’t allowed to reach out.

They keep walking in silence and when they reach the town he moves away from Arthur as he is surrounded by the people, crying for their king and chanting for the happiness of being safe once again.

He is walking along a small path towards his house, when a hand catches his. it’s big and calloused and it’s the first thing that has managed to anchor him to reality since the end of the battle.

“G-Gwaine?”

The hand pulls at his, making him spin around. There’s a soft, gentle look in Gwaine’s eyes; one Merlin has thought he was never going to see again directed at him.

“Merlin, I…”

Merlin squeezes Gwaine’s hand to let him know that he is listening.

“I know I might be in no position to say anything but…It’s alright, Merlin. Your magic, I mean. Only a blind man wouldn’t see that you are special. Magic is simply a bonus.”

Merlin doesn’t even try to prevent tears from falling; without a second thought he throws his arms around Gwaine’s neck and hugs him tight.

“Thank you.”

Gwaine simply hugs him back.

///

Arthur can’t feel anything, not the strain in his arms after having wielded his sword for hours, not the blood drying on his face or the kindness of Gwen’s hand on his arm as she guides him to his chambers.

He wonders if it is possible to be emptied like this, to feel hollow like a drum. His eyes swipes over the people gathering along the road, over the guards in front of the doors, over his father’s lifeless body but they can’t linger on any of these things. The only person that seems to shine through it all is Merlin, silent, his eyes downcast. Merlin who has magic and has never told him and that’s exactly why his eyes shouldn’t linger on him, isn’t it?

“Arthur, I’m sorry for your father. You know I am here whenever you need me.”

Gwen’s voice cuts through his thoughts and Arthur blinks.

“I…”

He doesn’t want her here; the only person whom would make sense to have by his side is his best friend, the same one who has betrayed him. His heart contracts painfully and he has to use all of his will power to grit an answer between his teeth.

“Gwen, I know that you are here for me, just…”

He looks straight in her eyes, hoping, pleading, that she can read him because he doesn’t feel strong enough to talk right now, to admit what he feels when once again he is left to float in doubt.

She looks at him and nods, understanding shining quietly in her beautiful eyes. Arthur can’t help thinking that she would make him happy if his stupid heart would allow him to be with her.

“Thank you, Gwen. For everything.”

He hopes he is not asking too much for her to read the apology hidden behind his stilted words. Her eyes are glistening and her smile is slightly watery when she speaks.

“You don’t have to thank me, Arthur. I am the one who should thank you because I already know that you will be a great king. And I will always be here, no matter what, even if you can’t love me.”

She doesn’t ask who has Arthur’s heart in their hands and he is grateful for that. Before he can answer she is bowing and starting to walk away.

*

Arthur knows that he should take care of his father’s funeral and start talking to Geoffrey for the coronation, after all he is eighteen and there is no need for a regent. But right now the only thing that he wants is to be allowed to be the boy that he still is for the last time. He quickly divests of his armor and curls on his chair, knees tucked against his chest.

If he closes his eyes he can see Uther’s hard eyes, his rough hands on his shoulders. He can see Merlin there too, with his grins and his soothing words when the king reprimanded him too harshly.

He realizes he is crying only when a sob tears its way out of his chest.

*

When a hesitant knock reaches his ears, Arthur doesn’t know how much time he has spent like this, but as he stands and his muscles ache in protest, he realizes that it must have been a while.

“Come in.”

He winces at how raw his voice sounds.

A dull ache spreads through his chest at the sight of Merlin. He wonders if prisoners in the dungeons feel like this, trapped and terrified because there isn’t a way out, there _cannot_ be a way out. There’s a part of him that screams for him to reach out, to pull Merlin close and whisper words of gratitude against his temple, because he saved his life on the field, and he probably has done the same many times before. Another part, though, is afraid that the boy in front of him isn’t the one he has always been, the one he knows and loves. What if what his father used to say was the truth and magic has corrupted Merlin’s heart? What if the boy he has grown up with, the boy he has kissed and touched and learnt from the inside out is no longer there anymore?

“I know you probably don’t want to see me.”

Merlin’s words cut through him deep. All he can think of is that he would never want that, Merlin is in his veins, like blood, he could never desire not to see him, even though he knows he should. He doesn’t say it, though, he lowers his gaze on the desk and listens to his heart stutter.

Merlin closes the door behind him and the sound of his boots on the floor echoes too high in the silent room.

“I…I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. That I wish I could have told you before. I…I would never hurt you. I am sorry.”

His voice is broken and beautiful and every bone in Arthur’s body aches with the need to touch him and hold him and promise him that everything is going to be alright.

He balls his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms. Apologies shouldn’t be enough, though; Merlin has betrayed him, he has magic, for God’s sake! How can a future king forgive a sorcerer?

Tears sting his eyes when he finally lifts his gaze and takes Merlin in. He is paler than usual, his eyes somehow brighter. He is gorgeous, painfully so.

Arthur’s tongue is heavy in his mouth when he speaks.

“I…I can’t, Merlin. I can’t just forgive you.”

Merlin opens his mouth to speak but Arthur quickly shakes his head, because there’s no way he could do what he has to if he lets Merlin speak. For a brief second he wonders how has Merlin managed to hold his heart in his hands like this. He quickly pushes the thought away.

“You are banned from Camelot, Merlin. Don’t…don’t let me see your face ever again.”

“Arthur…”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut as something trembles inside of him at the sound of his name coming from Merlin’s lips.

“Don’t, Merlin. Please.”

Merlin’s sharp intake of breath seems to resound against the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t open his eyes until he hears the sound of the door being closed. Only then does he opens them and lets the tears come as he listens to the sound of his traitorous heart as it breaks.

///

Merlin can feel his bones cracking under the weight of it all as he runs along the corridor, boots skipping on the stony floor. It’s as though his bones are shaking with the sheer need to turn around and run back to Arthur, but he can’t. He will never be able to come back and it hurts, as though someone has just cut off one of his arms.

A new heaviness settles on his heart as he reaches Gaius’ workshop; the old man has always been like a father to him and now he will have to let go of him too, of his mother, of Gwaine and the others. Tears are streaming down his cheeks when he finally musters enough courage to push the wooden door open.

Gaius simply looks at him, his eyes sad and deep; Merlin doesn’t even try to stop his legs from moving. He clutches at Gaius’ tunic as he whispers apologies against the coarse fabric.

*

“It will be alright, mom.”

Hunith hugs him tighter, her face hidden against his chest.

“But there must be another way! Arthur is your friend, how  could he…”

Merlin shakes his head and blinks back the tears.

“I hurt him, mom. I hurt him even though I promised to myself that I would never do that.”

*

That night he doesn’t sleep; he spends it awake, sitting in silence under the same tree where Will and he used to sit and look at the knights training when they were kids. Gwaine keeps an arm wrapped around his shoulders the whole time. They don’t say much, simply look at the silent grounds, at the walls of the castle grey against the night’s sky.

“You will find a way to come back, Merlin. He will see reason, I’m sure.”

Merlin closes his eyes and leans against Gwaine. He wishes he could believe him; he would give up everything for the certainty to be back here one day, to be back in Arthur’s life.

He doesn’t say anything; he keeps staring at the stars above their heads, wondering if the ache spreading through his body will ever stop.

*

Dawn comes and Merlin is standing alone outside of Camelot’s entrance. He has asked Gwaine and his mother not to come even though they insisted; to turn his back to them knowing that they would be watching as he leaves would have made it impossible for him to walk away.

As the sun starts to caress the tops of the trees and the roofs of the towers, he raises his gaze and focuses on a single window. He remembers standing on tiptoes to look out of it, Arthur by his side and talking about a time when he would have become the one to protect the people living in the city down below.

Arthur is going to be a king for real now that Uther is dead and Merlin wants to scream at the thought that he won’t be there to see it, to look at Arthur’s beautiful face as Geoffrey puts the crown on his head. He won’t be there to protect him and support him as he had promised.

His legs feel heavy as lead as he starts walking down the road. He doesn’t turn back until he reaches a turn and Camelot is no longer in sight. There are only trees and silence and broken memories.

*

The first night he spends alone in the woods he curls on the ground and tries hard not to think about all the times he accompanied Arthur on his hunt trips or on patrol, about that night when Arthur kissed him for the first time, the pale light of the fire sliding over his cheeks and glistening in his eyes. He fails.

*

On his third day of travel he finally reaches the valley where Ealdor rests. When he was a kid he used to fantasize about the place where his mother and father had lived all the time. He had tried to imagine their house, his father’s strong hands and gentle smile. He had tried to imagine what it would have been like to grow up with him or at least remember him.

But now, standing on top of a small hill and looking down at the scattered houses of the village, Merlin realizes that there’s nothing here for him anymore. There is not his father to wait for him and his mother and all the other people that have become like a family to him over the years are miles away.

He takes a deep breath but his lungs seem too small to breathe properly.

///

Arthur hadn’t wanted to and he truly had tried not to close the distance between his desk and the window. His hands had trembled as he gripped the edge of the desk, his heart thumping too fast in his ribcage.

But then he had closed his eyes and Merlin’s soft smile the night before the battle had surfaced from where he had buried it, from that place deep inside of him where he pushed all the most precious dreams, the most unattainable hopes. It was a small place where Merlin and his mother’s ghost lived, forever cherished. 

And then he hadn’t been able to resist anymore; he had almost tripped on his feet in the haste to reach the window. The sky was just starting to clear and the first peasants where starting to set up their stands in the lower town. Arthur squinted his eyes, looking in the direction of the town’s main entrance.

A small figure stood right in front of the doors, wrapped in a travelling cloak. He wanted to shout, to run down there, grab Merlin and not let him go, ever. Instead he remained there, his eyes never leaving Merlin until he disappeared behind a turn in the road.

It felt empty, it felt cold. As though something inside of him had died.

*

Arthur stands straight in front of the lake; he can feel the gazes of the crowd on him, but right now he can’t avert his gaze from the small vessel on which his father’s body is lying. He watches the flames as they crack and raise towards the sky. A sob stumbles past his lips and he hates himself for wishing that Merlin was here. He can almost feel the ghost of Merlin’s fingers around his own.

His hand closes around air and emptiness.

*

Leon and the other knights walk by his side back to the castle. They are all silent and Arthur doesn’t know whether he should feel grateful for it or if it makes him sadder. Merlin would have talked, his voice low and gentle, his hand brushing against his own.

Gwaine is the first to speak, his voice controlled and Arthur thinks that he should have expected it. The young knight would have all the reasons to hate him, to disrespect him as a king because of what he has done, because he hasn’t been able to keep his feelings in check, and yet he has remained by his side.

“We are all here for you, Arthur, we always will, you know that.”

Arthur looks at him and nods, feeling truly safe for the first time since the battle.

“You also know that Merlin would have remained by your side if you had allowed him to do so.”

It’s as though his blood has just frozen in his veins; his whole body seems to weight more.

“Gwaine, don’t.”

Arthur prays whoever is up there for Gwaine to drop it, because he isn’t sure he can hold everything inside if this conversation goes on.  The other man moves closer though, his eyes hard.

“No, Arthur. I know this might not be the ideal day to make you think about this, but you have to see reason. You need him, we all see it.”

Arthur blinks and slowly lets his gaze slide over the faces of the other knights. They don’t lower their gazes, Leon and Elyan nod in agreement.

Fisting his hands at his sides, Arthur tries his best to keep the anger that is starting to simmer inside of him at bay.

“I don’t need him, Gwaine. He is nothing to me.”

He holds Gwaine’s gaze and knows all too well that the knight sees through all of it, through this façade that he has forced himself to wear and that it’s getting heavier and heavier. He quickly resumes walking without waiting for his knights.

He knows all too well that what he has just said is a lie and bites down hard on his lower lip as the truth keeps clawing at his heart.

*

Days slip by slow; preparations for the coronation ceremony have started and Arthur can’t help cringing every time that he passes the throne room and a new banner or a new bunch of flowers has been added. He is not ready for this, for being a king and protecting his people. He feels so small and weak; he hasn’t even had enough courage to face his feelings, for God’s sake!

“Arthur, you need to stop worrying like this!”

Arthur raises his gaze from the papers he has been reading; Morgana is looking straight at him, a stern expression on her beautiful features.

“I…I can’t!”

“Sure you can! You have been a prince since you were born! You have it in your blood!”

“I can’t be like him, Morgana! I…”

Morgana’s hands are warm and soft when they cover his own.

“But you don’t have to be, Arthur! You can be so much better than Uther, you will be better!”

Arthur clings to her long fingers, wishing that he could share her faith.

*

Sleeping at night gets more and more difficult, his sleep crowded with dreams that seem to stick to his skin even when he wakes up, drenched in sweat and heart beating as fast as the one of a rabbit.

Sometimes he dreams of Ealdor even though he has never been there; he dreams of a young Merlin, with his too big eyes and missing front teeth.

Other nights, he dreams of his mother, instead; beautiful and calm, smiling at him and telling him that he doesn’t have to be afraid, that the only thing that he needs to do is to trust his own heart. In his dream he always tries to reach for her, but his arms are always too short and his heart too heavy. More often than not Merlin was is there also, sitting by Ygraine’s side, looking straight at him, his eyes glowing gold like the sun.

They leave him yearning, longing for something that is now forever out of reach. It doesn’t matter if a small voice at the back of his mind keeps repeating that he hasn’t lost Merlin as he lost his mother, that Merlin is out there somewhere and that he could be back if only Arthur called for him.

*

“Arthur you should go to see Gaius.”

Gwen’s voice is gentle but firm; Arthur looks at her and for an instant wonders how it would have been like if he had been able to love her. He shakes his head because it’s completely useless. She is not Merlin.

“Did Morgana tell you to come here and try to convince me?”

“No, Arthur, I came here on my own because I care about you and I know that you’ve stopped sleeping, I see how tired and broken you are. He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Arthur doesn’t need to ask whom she is referring to; he can almost picture the worried and exasperated expression that Merlin would wear. He doesn’t say that Merlin is the exact reason why he feels like this, lost and confused, he simply nods.

*

Gaius is not in the workshop when Arthur arrives;  he sits on the bench right under the window, Merlin’s favorite and he is almost sure he can hear the soft sound that his heart makes when it plummets to the bottom of his ribcage.

He remembers the days spent here, playing hide and seek when Gaius was out for his visits. Merlin was so clumsy he always ended up stumbling on some old book and finding him was always too easy.

Arthur passes a hand through his hair tugging hard at it, to ground himself to reality because memories keep licking at the edges of his conscience and it should get better with time but it doesn’t.

The sound of the door opening snaps him out of his thoughts. Gaius is looking at him, a white eyebrow arched impossibly high.

“Are you alright, sire?”

Arthur’s heart clenches at the sound of that word. He isn’t a king, he isn’t able to be one and it breaks him when someone close to him uses that word.

“Gaius, please, don’t…don’t call me that?”

Gaius nods, a gentle expression on his face as he walks up to him and sits down on the wooden bench by his side.

“Of course, Arthur. So, what brought you here?”

Arthur opens and closes his hands; he has the weird feeling that they are not part of his body anymore, he can feel the memory of Merlin’s skin tingling there.

“I…”

“Lady Morgana told me that you couldn’t sleep?”

Warmth spreads through him at the thought that Morgana cares and worries for him; it’s comforting to know that she is still there, the only family that he has left.

“Yes…it’s…”

It’s so hard to find the words and Arthur is so tired of this keeping everything locked inside. He needs his feelings to be out there, in plain sight.

Gaius’ hand is warm and coarse over his own.

“I miss him too, you know? He was like a son to me. I know why you thought you had to act that way, but I also know that you are hurting because of it.”

Arthur blinks; he doesn’t want Gaius to see him crying but he can’t hold back not right now.

“I…Gaius, he…Merlin has always been my best friend and…”

He doesn’t know if he can tell the old man the whole truth; if he can confess him that his heart is so full of Merlin that it threatens to burst open with every single breath.

“You don’t need to tell me anything, Arthur. I’m old and I’ve seen love too many times not to be able to recognize it.”

There’s no trace of judgment in Gaius’ voice and Arthur lets go of a breath he wasn’t aware of holding.

“Then why? Why did he betray me when…”

“He was scared, my boy, and you know just as well that when you care so much about someone you’d do anything in your power not to lose them.”

_“My heart is in your hands. It has always been.”_

He had promised not to let go of it and yet that’s exactly what he did, or at least pretended to do, when he chased Merlin away.

“But, Gaius, you know as well as me that magic corrupts the souls of those who hold it. What if…what if it changed Merlin too?”

“Arthur, that is what you father told you because he lost something precious and in his despair thought that magic was responsible for it.”

Arthur finally turns to look at Gaius’ face; his eyes are deep and sad.

“What do you mean?”

Gaius takes a deep breath.

“Ygraine, your mother, wasn’t able to conceive.”

“That is impossible! How was it possible for me to be born, then?”

“Uther asked a druid priestess, Nimueh, to use her magic and make it possible for your mother to give birth. But magic is part of the texture of this world, Arthur. It works respecting the balance which holds this very world together.”

Arthur swallows, his body suddenly gone numb.

“Nimueh told your father so, but he didn’t listen and then it was too late.”

It’s as though reality is cracking at the edges and Arthur doesn’t know what to think anymore. He is standing before he even realizes it, his voice ringing high in the silence of the workshop.

“What does this make of me, Gaius? What the hell am I if I wasn’t even supposed to be born?”

“You are your parents’ son. They wanted to have you, they loved you.”

“My mother died because of me, how…”

“I saw the look on her face when she held you, the happiness and the love. Arthur you are not a monster nor a mistake!”

Arthur shakes his head, his thoughts like lost birds.

“But if I was born because of magic…”

Gaius nods, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Merlin could feel it; his magic could feel  the faint traces of the one which brought you to us.”

“I…”

“He really loves you, Arthur. He would have sacrificed everything for you.”

The worst thing is that Arthur knows it now, sees it clearly and it kills him to know that he has pushed Merlin away. There’s no way to know where he is now and he has no right to hope for him to come back.

“I..I have to go now. Thank you, Gaius.”

The old man stands and pulls him into a hug.

“You are welcome, my boy.”

*

That night Arthur dreams of Merlin; his long pale fingers are tracing the lines of his body, his warm tongue dancing with his own. With every touch something presses against his skin trying to get closer to Merlin. Merlin whose eyes are glowing gold and are warm like honey; Merlin who whispers “I love you” against his lips.

///

Three weeks have passed and Merlin still feels as though he is bleeding.  People in Ealdor remember his mother and have welcomed him among them. He helps in the fields and sometimes they come to him when some ointment or salve is needed.

He spends almost every night awake, sat underneath an oak near his parents’ old house, looking at the fields disappearing in the darkness. He thinks of Camelot, laying right behind the hills. He thinks about Arthur; about the kid he grow up with, the boy he fell in love with and the man that looked at him with pained azure eyes and told him to go away.

Sometimes he doesn’t even feel strong enough to hope that he will be back one day, to see Arthur sat on his throne, to see him happy without him by his side.

*

He is working in the vegetable garden when Orland walks up to him.

“Have you heard the news, Merlin? Prince Arthur is finally going to be crowned two days from now!”

A shiver runs down Merlin’s spine. This is the moment he and Arthur have been dreaming about since they were kids; they had imagined themselves riding their horses across the kingdom, a shiny crown on Arthur’s head and the future in their hands.

It’s thrilling and it hurts like hell, because in all his dreams he was there, right by Arthur’s side. It doesn’t help that over time his dreams slightly changed and Arthur kissed him after the ceremony, all smiles and promises.

Despite the pain and longing that twirl around his bones, Merlin doesn’t even try to convince himself that he shouldn’t go to Camelot on the day of the coronation. He _needs_ to be there.

///

Arthur presses his forehead against the cool glass of his room’s window. His bones feel heavy with the knowledge that in a little he is going to be standing in front of people who are expecting him to be a good king, to be brave and just when he has been so coward to let the love of his life slip through his fingers.

He wonders what would have Merlin said if he had been here; if he would have taken his hand and kissed him softly before promising him a bright future. It’s Gwen who knocks on the door, though, and she looks at him with those eyes of hers, warm and gentle and yet capable to pierce right through his soul.

Arthur lets her take his hand; it’s not the same, but she knows, she knows the compact weight he is carrying and she has never judged him for that. The walk along the corridors seems to take ages when they finally stop in front of the throne room Gwen squeezes his hand one last time.

“You are going to make all of us proud, Arthur. You already do.”

Arthur thinks about Merlin, probably miles away and can’t find it in him to be proud about himself. He wants to run and leave all of this behind him, but he can’t and he pushes the heavy wooden door open.

///

Morgana is leaning against the wall right in front of the entrance to the passage; Merlin blinks.

“I knew you would come.”

For an instant he is almost afraid that she will alert the guards, but there’s nothing but affection in her green eyes. Right now she looks so similar to the little girl who used to join him and Arthur or their explorations of the castle that the nostalgia is palpable in the air, pressing right against Merlin’s chest.

Before he can answer Morgana is speaking again.

“Are you here to stay?”

Merlin shakes his head, heart heavy.

“I can’t.”

“You should, though. He wants you here. He needs you here.”

Merlin opens and closes his mouth; when he finally manages to speak his voice is thin like air.

“I…he has to be the one to ask me to stay.”

*

As soon as he enters the throne room, Merlin spots Gaius, standing in the front row and Gwaine and the other knights all donning their Camelot’s red cloaks. He wishes he could go up to them as he wishes he could see and speak to his mother.

But he isn’t supposed to be here; he is just a ghost in the place that has always been home to him.

The sound of the doors opening shakes him out of his thoughts and makes his heart speed up, magic bouncing along his bones. He knows he could turn and look at Arthur as he walks up to the throne where Geoffrey is waiting, crown in hand; his whole body trembles with the need to turn, to move, after the time spent alone, nursing memories of Arthur’s smile, of his hands, of his voice. But he doesn’t. Arthur might spot him and he can’t risk that. Adjusting the cape over his head, Merlin slips behind a column.

Then Arthur is standing on the podium, looking at the people assembled in the room and he is the most beautiful thing that Merlin has ever seen. The light pours through the high windows and slides over the golden of his hair, surrounding him like a soft halo. Merlin thinks that being here, to see the moment when finally Arthur becomes what he was always meant to be is worth it; he could die happily after this.

When finally Geoffrey lowers the crown on Arthur’s head, Merlin isn’t surprised to feel tears running down his cheeks; his heart is about to burst with pride and love. So big that he is sure that it is going to be engraved in his bones until the end of time.

He forces his legs to move, though; the tears are still falling when he slips past the doors.

///

Time seems to stop and Arthur has to force himself to breathe. His gaze is focused on the cloaked figure that has just slipped past the door. His heart slams against his ribcage and before he even registers what it is happening he is moving, almost tripping on his feet in the haste to reach the entrance.

He runs along the corridors, his lung burning and his feet moving on their own accord. He hopes that he is not mistaken, he hopes he can finally do the right thing.

He stumbles out, the light of the afternoon almost blinding him and all the air leaves his lungs as he spots a dark figure walking quickly along the southern bastion, towards the entrance to the passage he knows leads at the woods right behind Camelot.

“Merlin!”

The name tastes different on his tongue and he doesn’t know if it is because of the desperate hedge in his voice or because this is the first time that he pronounces it fully aware of what he feels for his best friend.

The figure stops but doesn’t turn and Arthur runs towards him, stopping at a few paces of distance.

“Merlin…you came…”

The figure lowers his cape and turns. Merlin’s eyes seem bluer and deeper than ever. His voice is shaky when he speaks.

“I…I couldn’t stay away on a day like this. Please, don’t hate me, just…just let me go…”

Arthur leans forward and grabs Merlin’s wrist; he can feel his pulse fluttering under his fingertips.

“I don’t want to..”

“Arthur?”

Arthur takes a deep breathe, because this is it, this is the time to be brave.

“I don’t want to let you go, Merlin, not this time. I…I want you to be by my side through it all.”

He watches as Merlin blinks, his lips slightly parted and his eyes glinting. To realize that he has been crying is like a punch in the stomach.

“But…I…you…I hurt you, Arthur. I…my magic…”

Arthur shakes his head and grips Merlin’s wrist tighter, pulling him closer, until the tips of their noses are brushing and for once he doesn’t care about what people might see or think or say.

“I know now that your magic is the same thing that made my life possible”

“Arthur…”

“Do you remember the dreams we used to have when we were kids? When we imagined exploring my kingdom together, just you and me?”

Merlin nods, his eyes wide and so beautiful that Arthur wants to lose himself in the skies they hold.

“I want them to be real. I need them to be, Merlin. I need _you_.”

Merlin takes in breath and closes his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering black against the perfect whiteness of his skin and Arthur can’t hold back anymore. Merlin’s lips feel like home and completeness and Arthur pours everything that he has in the kiss, all the longing and the love.

When they break apart he keeps Merlin close, their lips brushing when he speaks.

“Say yes, please.”

He can feel Merlin smile, his lips soft against his own.

“Yes.”

_I'll be there by your side for the rest of your life_

_Our bodies could fall off the end of the world_

THE END

 


End file.
